Lady of The Vividstone
by MotherMountain
Summary: When Aulë the smith created the Seven Fathers, first of all dwarves, he placed each within a mountain to awaken with his wife; save one. Durin I, father of the Longbeards, awoke alone. Now the daughter of the destined wife of Durin walks Middle Earth and is intent on retaking her mother halls. Will she reclaim her mother's honor? Or will she also die in disgrace and anonymity?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

* * *

When Aulë the smith created the Seven Fathers, first of all dwarves, he placed each within a mountain during the Years of Trees. Each awoke with his wife; save one. Durin I, father of the Longbeards, awoke alone in Gundabad. He wandered the north, across ranges and through caverns, seeking the half he had lost. He journeyed south, alone in the wild, naming hills and dells unseen by other creatures of speech. Finally, he settled in the Misty Mountains. He named his kingdom Khazad-dûm, the dark chasm, for its glittering halls meant little. His eyes were darkened, his heart despairing.

Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, lay far to the east. A sole peak, rich in the gifts of the earth, it held a single gift from all knowledge. The destined wife of Durin lay sleeping in the mountain. Not even the wisest of Middle Earth could discern why she did not awake from her slumber at the command of Mahal, why she did not rise to meet Durin I and claim her other half. She was an unspoken myth, unknown because she had never been. Her existence was only the whisper in the mind of Durin I, the promise from his creator god that never came to pass, nothing more.

Ages passed, her bones became the rock that held her. Her death was no more than an extension of the sleep she refused to rise from. For this Mahal both cursed and loved her; for he could never hate the creations forged by his own hand. So he saved her heart, purifying her will into the loveliest of gems, The Arkenstone, that she may both live and unlive in the mountain. Unseen and not truly seeing, existing yet not living, voiceless, and powerless but for the good will and blessings she could bestow, which would forever seem like only uncanny fortune.

Until they found her: The Arkenstone, the unbeating heart of the mountain. Little did the dwarves of Erebor know that when they placed the stone upon the throne they were holding up she who should have been the mother of their line. Yet she blessed them still, granting riches and prosperity until Erebor shone above all great kingdoms.

But that prosperity became their curse, and for one hundred and seventy years of men their halls lay barren and poisoned by the presence of the Drake. The Lonely Mountain, mate of Durin I was desolate, her heart no longer shone over the heads of her children. For while the mate of Durin I had never taken breath, had never spoken words, had never learned her name, she knew herself. She was the destined mother of the clan, and each descendent of the line of Durin was the blood of her heart. For while her body lay long dead in the roots of the mountain, The Heart of the Mountain, her heart, lived on for her children. Now they wandered, devoid of home, far beyond the eyes of even their mountain mother.

And so Smaug rested, secure in his conquest, content to glut himself on the riches of the line of Durin. For the heart of the mountain has lain quiet, pregnant with more than just hope…

But no longer.

* * *

**Author's Note: I've taken the history of the Longbeards (namely the origin of Durin and the creation of the dwarves) and altered it to make way for my OC. In the histories according to the book Durin I had no wife and was the only one of the first seven dwarf fathers to wake up without a wife. I took that concept and ran with it. Aulë is of course just another name for the god the dwarves refer to as Mahal. If there are any questions or unclear passages please bring them to my attention and I will make it my job to edit them for clarity. Thank you very much and I hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 1: A Gift From The Mountain Mother.

* * *

There was darkness, stone, comfort. Then harsh light, and then nothing was the same. Her eyes strained against the icy water that ran down the tendrils of her hair, blurring her vision. She worked her palms gently over her eyelids, trying to clear them of water. She pulled herself up, surveyed herself and her surroundings with newborn eyes and a wizened mind. She had form now, after ninety years of life she now had a physical form all her own, and that form stood in a river bed. She had knowledge of a series of sensations that were slowly becoming real to her where before there had only been vague notions, words the mountain gave her, a mission, a direction. So she began to step uneasily as she remembered words and their use. Naked, wet, walk on, cold, noise, walk on, ash, water, walk on, wind, the hiss of an arrow and the sound of its metal head striking stone.

The men of Dale could not possibly have been prepared for such a sight as that day. Their eyes often turned to The Lonely Mountain and it was never absent from their nightmares, so when a streak of fire sprang from the peak they could only assume it was the work of the Drake. And when their scouts peered from the edge of the city and saw a lone female dwarf wandering wet and naked just outside their walls how could they not construe it as a ploy of the beast? Some spell, trickery, or other foul work?

She knew that unfriendly arrows did not often miss accidentally,so she knew that they did not intend to kill her without cause. For her mother had not been blind or thoughtless since the dark days before Mahal had seen fit to bind the will of Durin's I wife into the stone, granting her a second, if cursed kind of life. She had observed much since then, passing her knowledge on into the birth of this… this one?

It was then that the young dwarf woman realized that she required a name. Her mother had not prepared her for the existential repercussions of having a single body, as mother had never had one; others had simply named her The Lonely Mountain, and her halls Erebor. It was as the dwarf girl considered this that she realized the men were speaking to her.

"—r doing in the river? Did you originate from the mountain?"

The man was very tall and lean, with straight thin blonde hair flowing over pointed features. He did not seem distrustful so much as concerned, not for her of course, but what she signified.

"I am of the mountain Erebor, for she is my mother. I have come to seek those that would be my kin."

If possible the men paled even further. They offered no argument and no question, only, "Please leave us in peace."

Clearly they thought her insane.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch.2: The Gray Traveler.

* * *

And so it was that a naked dwarf girl wandered through the main gate of Dale. The city had indeed suffered in these years without her kin for protection and trade.

No one approached her; everyone merely stared quietly as though hoping she would vanish as abruptly as she appeared.

"Have none of you any decency?" hissed an elderly woman with stringy, thinning hair who sat hunched over behind a fruit stand,

"Forgive them girl, hard times harden not just the weaker hearts."

The woman gestured with withered hands and yellowed nails to her, but she approached unafraid. The woman grabbed her wrists a little too firmly and pulled her behind the stand.

"Follow me home girl. I'll get food in your belly and at least some rags on your back."

The woman lived alone in a small hovel of a home on a dingy street, cared for with the waning interest characteristic with the race of men. It had been constructed of thin thatching and sloppily applied mud with little stone or wood to hold it upright. Really it was but a single room with a hearth over which hung an aged and cracking cook pot. There was only a bench and table for furniture, a bed of straw and blankets in the corner.

The woman's speed picked up once she was in her own home compared to the cautious pace of the street. She tottered with purpose towards a wooden crate, from which she produced the rags she promised.

"Be a dove and put those on. Then help an old woman with her fire."

She was more than happy to consent despite the condition of the frock, stained and off colored as it was. Yet the cloth did little to keep her warm, so she rushed to assist in stacking wood for the hearth.

Once it burned steadily the woman began to assemble a stew from the few vegetables she had, most of which had begun to go soft. The result was watery, bitter, and generally unfulfilling. Not the best first meal, but she would not starve this day.

The old woman seemed not to be interested in conversation, and had no questions for her. Though the dwarf girl had never walked this earth before, she had witnessed much through the memory of her mother, the eye of the mountain perceived much. So the girl found it strange that the woman should be so uninterested in her, and an odd unidentifiable instinct began coiling in her belly like a serpent.

"You should rest girl. I'm an old woman and sleep seldom, go on." The old woman seemed content to sit on her bench and smoke her pipe in the firelight, and despite her suspicions the girl knew that this straw bed was a vast improvement to the exposure and danger of the street at night.

She awoke abruptly to a man pulling on her ankle. Her eyes darted about frantically as he began to drag her towards him. Her hands found no weapon or structure to hold fast to, but still she lashed out instinctively, kicking him squarely in the jaw with her free foot. Her dwarven strength was superior to his and he flew back with blood beading on his lips. He let out a yelp and she scrambled to her feet as she saw two other men begin to cross the room. Each of them was disheveled and had clearly suffered lives of hardship: scars, missing teeth, pock marked faces from disease.

The old woman stood near the door, counting the coins the men must have just handed to her. The man who was now bleeding on the floor spit out a piece of broken tooth and snarled at the old woman,

"Nanya! What sort of deal is this? Look what she's done to my face!"

"If you would chance to indenture a dwarf woman you best consider the risks, I'll not bring down my price. Twenty pieces is a bargain for one so young and fair, especially one who has no beard! I should charge extra for that alone!"

"And how would you know? You've never seen a dwarf woman before! No one has!"

"Then the price should be forty pieces!" she snarled.

The girl considered declaring the depravity of this situation, but clearly her words would be of little consequence. These men had paid for something she was not willing to exchange.

By now the bleeding man was on his feet, and his fellows approached cautiously behind him. With little recourse the dwarf girl began to scream as loudly as she could, "Mother Mountain! Mother! Help!"

But unmoving stone is little, and the men grabbed her, taking her down again into the straw. Her screams became less like words and she threw them from her yet again. Clearly these men had no conception of dwarven strength, equating her to a simple human who could be easily overpowered by numbers alone. They quickly recalculated, drawing crude buck knives from their belts.

Her back to the wall, unarmed, she prayed to her mother, to Mahal, to Durin.

Light shook the doorframe behind the old woman, who began to squeal and cower into the corner. The shoddy door flung from its hinges, careening into the back of one of the assailants. The other two spun on their heels, thinking themselves ready for anything.

They were wrong.

The man whose silhouette cast across the room seemed to her massive. He was gray and bearded with a great staff he used to dispatch the two men with relative ease. The old woman skirted behind him, wailing into the night curses about wizards and the value of her life to her. Once he was certain the men were rightly beaten he seemed to shrink to a more friendly size, approaching her slowly and gently.

"Who are you?" the girl breathed, the snake of suspicion uncoiling rapidly in her belly though she did not know why.

"I am called Gandalf. And what is your name?"

"I have none."


	4. Chapter 4

Ch.3: Daughter of the Vividstone.

* * *

"That woman pretended to aide me, but was only interested in lining her pockets with my suffering. I knew that dwarf women seldom traveled, but I did not think us such a rarity as to be victimized by men."

The girl fumed, pulling the cloak Gandalf had purchased for her about her tightly. The thought of those people sickened her, but she was grateful that the wizard had been passing by, surveying the mountain to discern whether Smaug still lived.

"Unfortunately one does not need to be rare to be a target for wickedness… I am sorry for your troubles, but do not think all men are as such. Though I must wonder why a dwarf woman would be traveling alone in Dale, especially one with no beard?" Gandalf's eyebrow arched questioningly.

"I was sent by my mother the mountain to find my kin," she said, breathing deep the smell of the food Gandalf offered her and drinking liberally from the pint of ale he had purchased for her,

"As for the beard, it is a mark of my mother's shame. Mahal has marked me for my mother's betrayal, just as a dishonored dwarf must shave their face; I have been cursed with no beard."

"And who is your mother? Who are your kin?"

Gandalf was calmly smoking his pipe before a great roaring fire. He had relocated them to an inn, and the loud conversation around her seemed to grant a level of privacy all its own.

Knowing herself safe in the wizard's hands, she started into her strip of venison, having no reason for deception.

"My mother is the mountain kingdom of Erebor. She has dwelt there since the birth of the Seven Fathers. For some reason she slept when she should have awoken to her husband Durin I, and Mahal saw fit to grant her life enough to watch over her children. I am her daughter; the little life that remained in her heart was given to me."

"The Arkenstone…" Gandalf murmured, staring deeply into the flames.

The elves of the Greenwood had noticed the dimming of the life of The Lonely Mountain, and now this young dwarf woman appeared with a tale only one of great age and power could have known. Even Durin I himself had not known of his wife, only that he awoke with a chasm in his heart and sought to fill it. Now the appearance of a dwarf girl destined by birth for the line of Durin… sprung from the mountain under guard by the beast…

"As it is known, yes."

The girls comment broke Gandalf's reverie and he returned his attention to her face, though his eyes again glazed over in consideration beyond simply her as she spoke.

"My mother never awoke, and so never learned her true name, she is only Erebor now, The Lonely Mountain. But now even that life I fear has faded, I am what remains, the product of her knowledge and the last single thread of her strength. I must clear her halls of that reptilian filth and reinstate my kin. It is what she wished for more than anything. It is why she poured the last of her will into my creation ninety years ago. I believe she must have known you were nearby Gandalf, why else would she chose now to give me form?"

"Indeed…" Gandalf mused, seeming very far away.

Her eye's narrowed accusingly, "Mr. Gandalf? Mr. Gandalf?"

Gandalf jumped as though suddenly awakened from a light nap, and it peeved her greatly.

"Yes?" he choked out amidst the smoke of is pipe.

"Have you even been listening to a single word of my-"

"Indeed I have Lady… Lady… Harrumph." Gandalf stared at her for a moment, "What shall I call you?"

"As I said before, I have no name," she sighed flatly.

Gandalf considered this for a moment,

"It is not uncommon for dwarves to take names in the common tongue of their own choosing. Perhaps you should choose one until you can be properly named in Khazadian."

She paused. In theory there was nothing inherently wrong with Gandalf's proposal, but it somehow felt strange to name oneself when they had no intimate name. But there was nothing for it to go on being called simply 'dwarf girl.'

Her gaze shifted contentedly about the room, her mind wandering on the topic for a few moments.

"Eily," she stated soundly, for like most dwarves she was quick to make decisions and steadfast to them once made.

Gandalf smirked inwardly, "A very pleasant ring to that. Yes, Eily Vividstone I think… for the method of your birth. Well, we best adjourn to our room; we have a long road ahead. Don't worry; I've been assured they have a perfectly fine dwarf sized bed for you."

She nodded happily, the ale doing wonders to her temperament until she processed his words. She looked up from her pint abruptly, blonde hair tossing against her cheek.

"Road ahead? Where are we going?"


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 4: Concerning Dwarves

* * *

"And here I believed that all dwarves simply sprung from the rock itself!"

At this the crowd of men burst into another fit of half drunken laughter.

"Well in my case yes, but as a rule, no," Eily said flatly as she took another long pull from her flagon.

Clearly thinking she was joking, the men that had gathered around roared again with laughter and followed suit.

Eily smiled slightly to herself at that. In the long months she had spent on the road with Gandalf she had learned much about living. And now in the village of Bree the men flocked to her to (like nearly all others she had met) gawk and marvel at the curiosity of her existence.

At first they had been uncertain, even standoffish to her, but as the ale flowed their temperaments had warmed until they sat with her at a table and began to exchange colorful (though not too much so, she was after all a lady) stories and merry song.

She had become rather accustomed to Inn food and the various brews of men. Perhaps Gandalf chose to sleep indoors as much as possible for her safety, or to warm her heart to the race of men, but she believed it was more likely he put them up in Inns because he knew he could leave her there for days or even weeks without worry, for he seemed somewhat protective of her as though much depended on her existence.

"So milady Eily," began Gregor, a very amiable tailor, "Are all dwarf maids so pretty?"

She choked slightly on her ale, shocked at this compliment, which triggered another long round of guffaws from the men.

"Actually," she coughed, no slight amount of embarrassment, "For a dwarf maid I am quite unattractive, even ugly."

"Don't you say such a thing! Who would dare say that?" snarled Brannagh, a balding, gruff, but seemingly very tenderhearted blacksmith.

"A dwarf man I suppose," Eily shrugged, "You see, I've no beard to braid or ornament so I-"

"Pig swallow! They know not what they miss! You're a lovely lady! Strong of spirit and fair minded."

The men somberly agreed, and sipped their drinks with dark faces for a moment to signify their brevity.

"…if a bit small," added Gregor. And again a wave of howling laughter moved across the room.

* * *

When Gandalf returned from his meeting the hour had run very late and every man in the pub but the barkeep himself was either at home asleep or passed out under the table. Eily was still awake and finishing her last flagon when Gandalf strode into the room. She stood promptly to meet him at the door as he settled their debts with the barkeep and apologized for keeping her waiting.

"It is no trouble; the men of this village are well mannered compared to some we have encountered. Did your meeting go well?"

Gandalf nodded, a small secretive smile on his lips.

"Who exactly were you meeting with anyway? You have not sidetracked us from our mission yet again have you?" Her eyes narrowed incredulously at the wizard's back.

"I'll have you know that for a wizard, nothing is a side track. It is all one track; it simply contains circles."

Eily rolled her eyes helplessly. For nearly eight months now she had wandered West (often being left at Inn's or with friends of Gandalf so he could sidetrack at his pleasure) with Gandalf, and always he claimed his secret wanderings were for the good of her mission.

She did not doubt him or that he would someday prove his assistance valuable, she just wondered if she would die of old age before that day arrived. Still though she had not been wasting her time, nor had Gandalf been doing her no service whatsoever. When he abandoned her in Inns at backwater villages he usually left her with good company, company that could teach her skills she had not learned in her ninety years in the mountain.

It seemed Gandalf had friends of every shape and size, and they had taught her the basic skills of necessity she had been lacking. He had taken it upon himself to outfit her with proper travel clothing and weapons (however plain), for which she was dearly grateful as the wizard led a simple life and could not have come by expendable income easily.

"So where are we going?" she asked lightly, nudging her pony to keep pace with Gandalf's nag, not expecting an answer.

"If we move quickly enough by this moonlight, we shall reach the Shire just in time."

This peaked her interest instantly, "In time for what?"

There was a long pause as Gandalf trotted ahead of her.

"Gandalf?"

It seemed she had a talent for making tall people laugh.

"GANDALF?!"


	6. Chapter 6

Ch.5: Introductions and Gravy Boats

* * *

Despite its glaring lack of mountains the Shire seemed like a cozy enough sort of place. Certainly not grand enough for her or her kin, but pleasant and well cared for by its… odd occupants. Each of which took time from their leisurely living to come stare at Gandalf and herself as they passed by. She was not offended; it gave her opportunity to stare back at the strange pint-sized things, their peculiar little ears and great wide feet.

But Eily's curiosity for these 'hobbits,' as Gandalf called them could not alleviate her anxiety. The prospect of meeting the company of dwarves that would escort and aide in the retaking of Erebor had her nothing short of frightened.

"I asked them to meet me at an old friend's house. I think you'll find them an agreeable assemblage. And the hobbit is very pleasant; he'll like you very much I think."

It was obvious Gandalf was trying to comfort her, but it was not the hobbit's approval she worried about. She tugged at her cloak sheepishly as they approached the hill, self-consciously trying to keep her beardless jaw covered. Gandalf noticed and wrinkled his face a bit, but there was nothing he could do about dwarves and beards and contented himself to think on pleasanter things.

Gandalf could hardly restrain a chuckle at the thought of poor Bilbo, who was sure to be taken aback by the guests who arrived at his front step that evening. But the halfling would adapt soon enough to the presence of dwarf, and if he must be inducted so abruptly, better it be over dinner.

When Gandalf tapped gingerly on the round green door there was already boisterous song radiating from the cozy looking hole in the hill. Eily's heart rose at the sound of her people's song, recognizing and responding to it instinctively.

* * *

_~Smash the bottles and burn the corks!~_

* * *

A grin took over her face. Despite a royal (and magical) conception she had never met another dwarf, yet somehow her accounts and secondhand experience (be it from the Mother Mountain, Gandalf, or human traveler) seemed to all coalesce into a sort of genetic memory.

She knew she belonged.

Until the door was opened.

"Gandalf! What is going- They're destroying my house Gandalf! Look at what they're doing to my dishes! They're heirlooms Gandalf!"

The hobbit was completely distraught, and Gandalf smiled his way past him, Eily under his arm.

* * *

_~Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!~_

* * *

"Bilbo, this is Eily, a dwarf lady of noble house. I think the two of you shall get along famously. Eily, this is my old friend Bilbo, an intrepid adventurer."

"A pleasure to meet you milady,"

Bilbo bowed stiffly, not out of rudeness but more out of shock and a sudden urgent need to attend to his pretty guest,

* * *

_~Splash the wine on every door!~_

* * *

"Please make yourself at home! Could I take your cloak from you? Are you cold? Hungry? I'm sure Gandalf has been ignoring- Wait, adventurer?"

His tiny head snapped back to Gandalf, and he began to gesticulate agitatedly in Gandalf's direction, shaking Eily's brown fur lined cloak in his tiny fist, forgetting he had taken it,

"Now just what is the meaning of all-"

Eily's attention to Bilbo's grousing faded away as she stepped out from behind Gandalf, her hands gripped her skirts, rubbing the material between her fingers anxiously. So far they had not noticed her, and they continued to sing merrily. She moved silently to the center of the hallway, eyes twisting about the room, watching as they energetically tossed dish and bowl alike between each other.

A particularly handsome, and particularly young, brunette dwarf stood with his back turned to her, a wide grin plastered on his face as he turned slightly to toss a dish. Another dwarf, this one blonde and slightly more of age turned to pass him another, and as he did so his eyes caught sight of her.

She stiffened instantly and tried her best to meet his gaze and not be shy.

He simply stared until a large serving plate smashed painfully into the back of his head, shattering as it hit the floor.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!" shrieked Bilbo, quickly fussing his way to the broken plate.

"Fili? What are you doing? I threw it right to you!" belted an irked, but mostly entertained voice from what must have been the dining room.

The brunette dwarf who still had his back turned was pointing and guffawing at the blonde, turning to see what had grabbed his attention, a wide bright handsome smile still stuck on his face, but what he saw caused him to release the dish in his hand, which fell heavily to the floor, breaking the handle free from the small dish.

"THAT'S MY BEST GRAVY BOAT!" Bilbo shrieked and let out a nasal huff as he pushed the young brunette to the side to sadly finger through the dirty remnants of his favorite daisy patterned gravy dispenser.

"What is going on out here?"

A short elder dwarf sauntered out in response to Bilbo's yapping, a pipe in his mouth and his thumbs in his belt, his snowy beard reflecting the candlelight. He had the presence of mind to grab hold of his pipe as his jaw gaped.

All of Eily's pride (which she had no idea was so fragile) felt like it was running out of her as the other dwarves peeped, or in some cases clumsily shoved, into the hall, all of them going mute as their gazes honed in on her. The moment felt like it went on for an eternity, but in reality it was only a few short moments until Gandalf stepped deftly between the two groups, pushing a few chunks of broken ceramic to the side with the end of his staff,

"Eily, these are the noble dwarves of Erebor. This fellow is Bofur; that is his brother Bombur, and their cousin Bifur. These three brothers are Dori, Nori, and that one there is Ori. This,"

Gandalf set a large hand on the shoulder of the white haired dwarf, "is Balin, first son of Fundin and his brother Dwalin."

"And THESE-THESE- ROUGHABOUTS-" Bilbo suddenly interjected, rising from the floor with one of his arms full of dish shards, the other shaking with an accusatory finger extended on the remaining two young dwarves like a weapon.

"These are the youngest of the senior line of Durin: Fili, and his brother, Kili." Gandalf finished before Bilbo could continue on his tirade.

"And this," Gandalf smiled softly as he turned to her, "Is the lady Eily of the Vividstone, sole descendent of the unknown clan mother and daughter of the Lonely Mountain itself."

The dwarves who had taken a break from staring at her to look at Gandalf began to turn back to her incredulously. Eily could feel the blood rushing to her face as she blinked back at the twenty-four unreadable eyes.

Gandalf coughed a bit at the awkward silence and rather than ease it simply walked into the dining room.

"Any wine left?" he asked gruffly.

"Oh, yes, yes. Let me fetch a glass for you!" piped Dori, who took this as the moment to escape the difficult and tense air of the hallway.

"Don't give him that fruity stuff! Take some from the barrel in back, it's aged much better," Balin added, following the other dwarf, "Nori show him the one I'm talking about."

Soon every dwarf found a thin excuse to withdraw into the dining room, and arguments and jokes recommenced.

But it was not the same, she could feel it. None of them had spoken to her; they simply retreated together into another room, probably hoping she was some kind of bad day dream.

She was left alone in the hall with the hobbit, who was sweeping up the smaller bits of plate with an agitated mumble on his breath.

Despite their rudeness, oddly, it hadn't been as mortifying as she'd envisioned. On the road to the Shire she'd imagined the best and worst possibilities for this meeting: the best being that they all would approach and embrace her as a sister and daughter. On the other hand, she also imagined them cursing her and sending her out on her ear, reviling her as the spawn of the one who had betrayed her One, her destined mate (but not just any mate), the betrayer Durin himself. And though they had not known of her mother's existence until now (or maybe still didn't for lack of understanding, though it seemed unlikely that Gandalf would keep quiet about it) they were sure to recognize the disgrace in it. If nothing else the disgrace on her beardless face.

Instead they seemed only deeply confused, at least for now.

"So are you hungry?" Bilbo asked, turning to her with his full dustpan of dish remnants and pulling her from her grim thoughts,

"I have a few biscuits and a choice bit of ham in the parlor that I was saving for an after dinner snack. We could warm up by the fire while you ate."

Bilbo's offer was both kind and perceptive; the last place she wanted to enter was that dining room.


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 6: Ugly, Lovely, Lady

* * *

**Author's Note: Due to Jackson's choice to portray Kili with such a short/stubbly beard, I've chosen to ignore Tolkien's remarks about dwarves being born with beards in favor of them coming in at puberty (because I can't think of any reason why Kili would keep it so short otherwise, he's a Longbeard for goodness sake). So yeah, more tweaking to make the book and movieverses blend a bit more for me.**

* * *

It took a plate colliding with his skull to make Fili realize he was not dreaming… or dead. There was the possibility that Shire food was somehow toxic, or that he and his brother had somehow died on the road.

But the ache in his head made promises of the bump to come, so he was neither dreaming nor expired.

This made the sight of her all the more disturbing.

What a strange, ugly little thing she was.

A dwarf woman, somewhat slight of frame, beardless so in the first moment he thought she could be a child who had not grown into her beard yet (perhaps another late bloomer like his brother) but her baring eliminated such a possibility.

She was at least as old as him and seemed to understand with her eyes even if her experience was limited.

Then he wondered if she was somehow disgraced, shaving her face as a sign of her shame as decent dwarves did when they lost or otherwise compromised their honor. But her face showed no sign of having ever been shaved, groomed, trimmed or otherwise bearded. Her skin was smooth and soft like a human or elf maid.

So then what did that make her?

She was of the appropriate height, curvy, (if a bit slight of frame, as typical of young dwarves, especially if she had been traveling and living lean) and obviously strong in body. Her nose was small, her face delicate for a dwarf, but they were not odd or disproportionate features if they were only complimented by a beard.

Then Gandalf introduced her, and while the question of her race had been alleviated, her origin only deepened his confusion.

His eyes broke from her only to examine the faces of the others, who were equally disturbed by her, except of course for Kili, who was never smart enough to be disturbed when he should be.

* * *

Kili's amusement at his brother's sudden loss of coordination was a fortuitous lead in to his first sight of Eily. Fortuitous because it meant he was flashing a bright toothed smile for the first time she saw his full face.

Kili may have been mischievous, even rude, but he made a point of always giving his very best smile when he met someone new no matter how odd they seemed, just as he had when he first saw Mr. Boggins (Baggins?). And he had never been so grateful for that habit until this moment, even if maintaining that smile did cause him to destroy a perfectly good gravy boat in the process.

She was absolutely lovely.

She was the perfect blend of dwarven strength and foreign fairness.

She was the proper height, with a slight build, full bust, youthful features, and a head of thick shining blonde hair that had been highlighted by the sun.

If what others said was true, and his brother had a mane of gold, then this maid's hair was comprised of the light reflected from a finely cut diamond, for hers was not so dirty a blonde.

Her hair flowed in gentle waves ending in the center of the curve of her breasts and appeared soft to the touch. He was surprised to note that it was completely unadorned; she had no braids, beads, clasps or ribbons in it though it was clearly cared for and often combed. Her skin was pale like an elf, but moles and freckles dotted her here and there (which in his opinion made her more beautiful than an elf, whose creamy skin was always just a single shade of milk). Her eyes were green with flecks of golden toned browns and her eyelashes were long and batted with unwitting appeal as her gaze swept to the floor.

The base layer of her garb was a plain, fitted long sleeved tan linen dress with a modest neckline, embroidered about the collar, over which she wore a fitted, fur lined, front lacing, mossy (nearly brown) green bodice dress with short vented sleeves to allow freedom of movement in the shoulders and thin deep red detailing about the seams and edges.

The vented sleeves were festooned with metal studs for ornamentation while revealing the think linen beneath. The green outer layer of the gown had open seams on each side and down the front where it laced up her torso, this broke the outer layer into three panels of fabric, two in front and one in back to let her move more easily (the hem on both layers was kept a little high to prevent them from catching and dragging in dirt, through the hem was filthy and torn anyway).

Beneath her skirts Kili spotted that she wore tight brown breeches and knee high brown leather boots, a bit unorthodox but necessary if she were to be traveling in the wild. Over her gown she wore a brown leather belt, obviously crafted by dwarves but of common make with a simple iron buckle. On the belt she had two small pouches, a reasonably sized hunting knife, and a short handled battle axe which hung from one side of her hip ending just above her knee, making her shift her weight to the side, a posture that flaunted the curve of her hip (he approved).

She had no armor, her clothing was modest, and had she a beard she would have fit in easily with the wandering, practical, and often impoverished, dwarves of Erebor.

But she had no beard.

Kili did not mind in the slightest though, to him a pretty face was a pretty face, and when the hall began to clear, his eyes left her reluctantly.

* * *

"So are you hungry?" Bilbo asked, turning to her with his full dustpan of dish remnants, "I have a few biscuits and a choice bit of ham in the parlor that I was saving for an after dinner snack. We could warm up by the fire while you ate."

Bilbo's offer was both kind and perceptive; the last place she wanted to enter was that dining room.

Eily followed Bilbo into the cozy parlor with its hearth already flaming, and on a small side table next to an inordinately plush chair sat a rather generous helping of ham, a baked potato, and two biscuits.

Bilbo sat next to her contentedly as she delicately ate, happy to remain quiet by her side, perhaps comforted by her in comparison to the boisterous company that now occupied nearly every other room of the house at their leisure.

The two oddballs sat exchanging slightly awkward smiles until she drank down the last of her wine.

"So… you were born from a mountain eh?" Bilbo asked with a disbelieving smirk.

She nodded patiently, "My consciousness in ninety years old, not very old for a dwarf, but I did not have a body until very recently. I know it makes me strange, but it's a lot like just existing in one place, living through other people's stories, and then suddenly… being pushed out to find your own way. I am an orphan now, and yes my mother was technically a mountain, but that is just what held her spirit. I mean, she was a dwarf until her bones turned to rock and stone and her will was crystalized into a blessed gem."

She turned to Bilbo, a matter of fact look on her face, as though these were simply acceptable facts. But the world at large was not as magical as her mother and Gandalf were, and apparently the hobbit did not understand, and as usual her honesty was met with a tightening silence.

"I suppose… we are not so different then," he mused.

She stared at him, and a warm light seemed to fill her chest as he smiled at her, trying so kindly to find common ground between them.

"I mean, I've lived at Bag End my entire life, and I grew up learning through stories and other people's words, though many of them are in books and maps… I suppose if I and my mother were, uhm, mountains, it would be just the same."

Really the comparison was weak at best, but she reached for his hand and held it in a gesture of understanding, and maybe solidarity. Like hers it was soft and comfortable and Bilbo's pointed ears turned a little pinker at the feel of her skin.

But she did not notice as this was the first hand she had ever held really.

He was the first normal creature who had heard her story and accepted it. Her first friend outside of the enigmatic Gandalf, and in that moment she swore to be a loyal and true friend to him until the end of her days whether he assisted in the retaking of Erebor or not.

For the hearts of dwarves beat behind high walls, but are fierce when won.


	8. Chapter 8

Ch.7: Daughter of a First Mother

* * *

Bilbo's thoughts fluttered for a moment when the lovely dwarf woman squeezed his hand. He expected dwarf hands would be rough, but hers were very pleasant. He also expected dwarf faces to be equally gruff, bearded, and fierce. But she seemed to be none of those things. She was lovely, not gorgeous, probably not the fairest creature in Middle Earth by a long stretch, but pretty enough, and strong willed, and willing, even wanting to give love. He smiled, his ears turning warm and rosy with pride.

Her hand pulled away as abruptly as it came and she began to wander his parlor and leaf through his books and papers.

At least one dwarf had an appreciation for something other than the contents of his cupboards. He could see the two of them getting along famously.

And just as that thought crossed his mind a loud thumping reverberated down the hallway, and the dwarves grew suddenly silent.

Bilbo heard Gandalf croak out a, "He is here," before opening the door, presumably on another pushy dwarf.

Bilbo sighed, pulling himself from his armchair and tugging his suspenders with his thumbs. Like any good host, he must great all guests, however uninvited.

* * *

Eily continued to flip lazily through Bilbo's maps even as Thorin entered the hobbit hole, knowing that though her blood was technically senior to his that his was royal. So as Gandalf has previously cautioned her she waited for him to smooth out her existence with the King Under The Mountain.

If his men could not discern what was real or false about her, she knew better than to force herself into the conversation. Thorin would make his own judgement of her and the others would accept it, she imagined until he ruled on her validity that no dwarf would dare speak one way or the other.

So she respectfully kept to herself in the parlor eyeing maps. Mostly of places in the Shire she would likely never visit when a low snarl erupted from across the hall.

"That is unacceptable! Her presence will be a curse upon the quest!"

"Oh, I do not seem to remember this being your decision alone Thorin son of Thrain!"

"I do not believe a word of her story! It's absurd! And the fact that you can shows-"

"SHOWS WHAT?!"

She recognized that voice, it was Gandalf's dark, booming tone. He'd used it to get his way often on their journey, and to scare those who angered him.

She heard the squeal of chair legs and the pounding of frustrated feet cross the hall to her. Quickly she straightened herself to seem more experienced and useful as Thorin stormed into the room.

He said nothing, he simply glowered over her for a moment. Then he took a few steps closer. Then a few steps more, then another until his nose could have brushed her forehead.

She stood completely still, uncertain of whether to speak, move, or even breathe.

Then in one mysterious sweep he turned and strode from the room, leaving her baffled and maybe even ready to cry had her heart not been choking her in her throat from nervousness.

She swallowed hard and took a sip of wine to compose herself. She had genuinely believed he might slit her throat then and there; either because he thought her a liar or because she was the spawn of what many a dwarf would call a traitor.

So much for first impressions.

* * *

Thorin was affronted by the very notion that his reckoning of his ancestor's life could have been flawed, that a destined mate for him could have existed (let alone rejected him) was offensive. As one of the few in his company who had actually born close enough witness to the beauty of the Arkenstone, he knew that a life springing forth from it was impossible, but when he looked at her it felt… felt… familiar? Warm? Like… coming home?

Ridiculous.

He strode closer to her, examined her more thoroughly.

Her lack of a beard was somewhat unseemly, but the closer he got to her the more he could feel it. This feeling of comfort… of rightness…

Erebor.

By now he was close enough to her that the smell of her hair filled his nose.

But her hair did not smell to him simply of soap, wind, youth and flower pollen. He could smell the halls, the gold, the stone, the high North wind, the pine…

The ash.

His body quivered from an emotion or impulse he could not identify. He only knew it was not doubt. Something clung to her, some last bit of spirit not her own, and it recognized him, called to him just as the smell of her young skin called to him. It spoke of vows, power, riches.

Lust.

He swallowed hard and spun on his heel.

Whatever the wizard had planned for her, he did not like it.

* * *

Kili fidgeted in his seat, occasionally elbowing Fili just for the sake of moving. He was glad to be a part of this meeting with his kin, no matter how serious the conversation had turned, but he could not help but feel that Eily should be a part of it.

When Gandalf pulled out Thror's map of the mountain, he thoughtlessly chimed, "Shouldn't the lady Eily be here for this?"

"Pfft, she is no lady," Nori began, expecting to be immediately supported in this assessment by Thorin, who had seemed unsettled when he went to meet her.

Thorin growled low, "Her claim to Erebor is as rightful as any, and a great deal more than most of you," he continued, "Her blood is pure, forged by one of Mahal's first children. She goes with us to reclaim her families honor and fulfill her rightful purpose."

Everyone was silent at that, be it from Thorin's tone or the vagueness of his statement.

Bilbo wrinkled his nose slightly at how quickly Thorin began to speak for her, claiming she would go before asking her, especially since not ten minutes ago he was calling her a liar and a curse, but he kept his mouth shut.

At the sound of Thorin's declaration (for it was impossible not to hear him) Eily slowly entered the doorway to the dining room, which seemed to her so snug she had no conception of how she may find a seat even if there was another chair.

But despite all odds, and probably in no small part due to Thorin's sudden acceptance of her story, the dwarves suddenly seemed to warm up to her.

"Please take my seat Milady," offered Gloin, rather loudly.

Not wanting to rebuke even the smallest shred of kindness from them Eily gladly complied, squirming past the others into Gloin's chair between Nori and Balin.

Nori seemed uncomfortable for a moment, his beard not concealing his embarrassment, "I'm sorry child," he mumbled.

"I understand completely," she replied softly, "Sometimes I forget how implausible I seem. But I do want to help." She offered a weak smile, unaware of the toothy smile that beamed at her from across the table.

* * *

Fili rolled his eyes, nudging his brother back to reality. Kili had been simply mooning at her since she entered the room. Fili sighed at the discomfort, "I say let there be no more talk of what the lady Eily is or is not. If Gandalf says she's a daughter of the First Mothers then that is what she is."

Fili had said this more to put an end to all the fuss encircling the girl, but Kili, as usual, misinterpreted, "Indeed! And beard or no beard, she is a dwarf maiden and a fair one at that!"

"Oh, sweet on her already are yah?" Bofur chuckled, eliciting a wave of laughter at Kili's expense.

"What? No! Simply that disgraced face or no she's of the house of Durin and-"

"Well actually if she's the daughter of the only unwed First Mother, she's not related to any dwarf of any house," Dori interjected.

"I thought we were done with all the what she is and what she's not babble?" Dwalin snapped impatiently as the entire group began to break off into argument and conversation about what her lack of relation meant for their families, whether she really was disgraced at all or simply a line of beardless dwarf, how exciting it was that The Lonely Mountain had actually been enchanted all along, and all such chatter.

"ENOUGH!" Thorin snapped, not particularly fiercely but loudly enough that the company stopped to consider him for a moment.

Gandalf smirked behind his pipe smoke.

"Perhaps we should move on to the contracts," Balin offered.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch.8: Mahal's Devices

* * *

Eily awoke the next morning in a guest bed of Bag End.

A natural early riser, she was up with the sun and before much of her company. Which not surprisingly included Bilbo, who had vowed to her the night earlier that he 'absolutely would not' rise early to cook the audacious dwarves their breakfast 'whether Thorin preferred his six eggs fried not poached' or no.

She slid from the plush mattress and quickly bathed herself using a rag in the wash basin, pulled on her boots, and headed to the kitchen where some of the dwarves were awake and groggily (and no small amount disappointedly) attending to their own breakfast.

They seemed intent on completely emptying Bilbo's stores before setting off.

She was surprised to find most of the company in varying states of undress, only one of them showing any decorum about it, noting Ori scurrying around the corner out of modesty, rushing to fully clothe.

She wasn't maidenly enough to blush at the sight of Bofur in only his trousers, (as a rule dwarves did not possess the same prim habits as other races) but she still thought she should be treated with the sort of courtesies befitting her station, even if she was technically disgraced. So she chose to give him a long judgmental stare until he grumbled and made as though to put on a few more layers.

* * *

Kili was at the end of the table, shoveling an assemblage of scrambled eggs, various meats, and maybe a pickle into his mouth simultaneously, he couldn't really tell. Being so young his appetite often got ahead of him and his face was now barely an inch off his plate as he enthusiastically consumed breakfast in anticipation of the beginning of their quest.

Luckily for him he managed to catch sight of Eily mid scoop and stopped, standing abruptly as she took her seat (as his mother had so dutifully nagged him about when ladies sat at table) and then sitting back down with his back straightened, staring directly at her with an unblinking intensity he was sure would impress.

* * *

Dwalin's upper lip curled in exasperation at Kili's concentrated stare. Maybe he was trying to seem older or more solemn by gawking like that. Or perhaps a little more cultured than he actually was, for standing when ladies approached table was more a custom of men observed by the royal family only on special occasion, but leave it to the lad to misapply the only manners his poor mother had managed to drill into his thick skull.

He supposed Kili felt that his expression resembled that of Thorin's commanding dignity, but it came off more like intestinal discomfort (especially since the lad still had egg clinging to his fledgling beard).

Luckily for the lad the girl did not seem to be paying much attention, distracted by the half-naked Bofur as she took a seat and accepted a plate from him. She stared flatly at him and he gave a mock insulted face,

"What? Fine, I'll put more on!"

Bofur reached around the corner to reveal his trusty cap, placing it atop his head in a mock coronation,

"Better yes?"

She rolled her eyes and then promptly averted them from his hairy bare chest as he handed her a fork.

As he exited Bofur's eyes swung to Kili and his brows knit together with concern.

"You alright there lad?"

Kili turned to Bofur with a stone serious stare,

"Of course," he said, adding some gravel into his tone.

Yes, Dwalin grinned to himself, definitely inspired by Thorin.

"Cause you look like you maybe need to break some wind?" Bofur suggested with genuine concern.

"If you're suffering an upset tummy I've some chalk in the cupboard, it's good for indigestion," piped the hobbit on approach from his bedroom, his housecoat tied tightly around him,

"You're not feeling feverish are you? I won't have myself setting off when a fever is going about. It won't do!"

The hobbit wrinkled his nose disapprovingly as he made to place a palm on Kili's forehead to confirm his theory.

Kili frowned deeply, swatting Bilbo's tiny hand out from his vicinity, probably looking for words to protest as Dwalin rose to wash off his plate, hiding a rolling chuckle under his beard.

He couldn't decide if it was because Kili's 'resolute' stare resembled constipation or the way the hobbit said 'tummy' that he found most entertaining.

* * *

Thorin was one of the last to rise, though he lay awake for long minutes in what Bilbo had declared 'his very finest guest room,' so when he heard the door begin to open, he closed his eyes, resigned to begin the day despite lack of proper rest.

Since she was already washed, dressed and fed before most of the dwarves Eily was sent to deliver his breakfast, a task she volunteered for. If Thorin was anything like the rest of them, he would appreciate a hardy breakfast, and she very much wanted to please him since his approval could be the deciding factor in finding a place among her people.

She placed the heavily loaded plate on the bedside table by his head, believing that the smell of the hobbit's spiced sausages would surely rouse him in a pleasant way.

However, since he had been in and out of fitful sleep (and indeed, awake when she had entered) he responded to the quiet clank of the plate, rising groggily and running his fingers over his beard to smooth it.

"Good morning," Eily said steadily, cautious of her voice sounding too chipper, too loud, too flat, anything that may have had the ability to agitate this clearly ordinarily late riser.

Thorin nodded and picked up the plate as he threw his legs over the other side of the bed, turning his back to her and pushing his feet into the boots he'd left there last night.

It seemed he had nothing to say as he took the plate into his lap and began to eat unceremoniously.

Eily had started to exit dutifully when he finally spoke, his voice a bit husky from sleep,

"For the affliction you carry, I am sorry."

Eily stopped, turning back into the room but otherwise unmoving, believing it polite to wait a moment and not interrupt.

Thorin's voice was cool and even as he methodically cut a sausage in half with the side of his fork,

"I apologize for our treatment of you last night… especially myself. You are dishonored by actions that were not your own. Your blood is of an ancient and most noble house, yet you are a pauper…"

Thorin's voice sounded tight in his chest now, "I had thought these my burdens and mine alone. But it seems we both are ensnared by the mountain."

"I am hardly ensnared, she is my mother."

"As she was mine," he added wryly, looking over his shoulder for only a moment, his pale blue eyes locking with her face, "It seems our houses were destined to be intertwined."

There was a pregnant pause, which Eily broke quizzically,

"By this quest you mean?"

Thorin turned back to his plate, and then drew his eyes up and out the hobbit's window, past the porch of blooming flowers; the Shire's rolling hills, fixed onto something far away.

His eyes were a frozen fire, his voice a deep catlike purr.

"Of course."

* * *

Dwalin groaned to himself, fixing his exasperated eyes over his shoulder at Bilbo,

"I may strangle him before we reach the mountain if he keeps this up," he mumbled to his brother.

"Take a few breaths Dwalin," Balin chided calmly, "the lad means well. And look how happy the lady is. He's probably just excited by the prospect of burgling a dragon. I imagine it's quite a mark of professionalism in his trade."

* * *

Truth be told even Balin himself was slightly irritated, they had been walking for about an hour (on a trip that should have taken half that) and from the moment he'd stepped from his hole the hobbit had prattled and delayed them endlessly.

At first it had been entertaining, even interesting as the hobbit was an amusing creature who had thus far kept his thoughts mainly to himself, but the well of novelty quickly ran dry as the halfling began to lecture on a veritable lexicon of herbs, foods, flowers, hobbitish… things (and let us not forget stopping to greet each and every Shire neighbor as they went, introducing the lady Eily and explaining that he would be absent from Bag End for a short while, but not to worry).

Obviously such topics were little more than fiddle faddle to dwarf ears, but the hobbit's endless nattering seemed to amuse the lady Eily, and dwarves can tolerate much in the interest of one another's enjoyment.

Balin knew that many of the others already could not understand how Eily (who should have had similar disinterest) could stomach it; even enjoy it for indeed she had chosen to keep a leisurely pace behind the company right next to him (which served to slow them down further).

But Balin supposed he could understand it in the abstract. After ninety years of living in concurrence with another mind, indeed sharing everything in one simultaneous stream of consciousness, having her own mind to conceal and store herself in must have been a startling and exciting novelty.

Moreover, those apart from her must also have their own mental vaults as it were, ready to be opened to untold treasures of remembrance. It must have made conversation and the motivations of others endlessly fascinating for her.

But no matter how much she enjoyed conversation it was painfully obvious to the elder dwarf that she had very little to tell about herself. Her mind, though matured, had experienced so little of Middle Earth, and it seemed that she was something of a sad story all things considered.

So it seemed the hobbit took it upon himself to impress upon her her own impressions.

This was as puzzling, and tedious, as it sounded.

Truth be told the only male dwarf who fully enjoyed the walk to Bywater that day was Oin, who had taken to keeping his trumpet in his belt, passing his time in blissful quiet.

"Lucky deaf bastard," Nori mumbled to Balin and Dwalin as Bilbo began to verbally catalog the vegetables he most enjoyed when pickled, and if Eily had tasted any of them, and her impressions of that, and did her impressions match his impressions.

And so on.

* * *

Once the company reached Bywater they went directly to the Green Dragon, where their bundles, bags, mounts, and traveling paraphernalia awaited them. Bilbo again began to fall silent, the realization of his commitment setting in as he was handed the bridle to a shaggy looking pony.

"Bilbo and the lady shall ride together, they make the lightest load," Thorin declared as he settled into his saddle.

Bilbo was very uncomfortable with this announcement: he was not an experienced rider and therefore did not want to sit in front of Eily for fear of misguiding the pony, but he also did not know where the proper place to keep his hands would be should be sit behind her (on her waist? No! Shoulders? That couldn't be right).

As he fidgeted with this predicament Gandalf approached on a fine looking white horse, having left before all of them that morning to arrange for travel.

"Well get up onto your mount Bilbo, we've not all season to watch you roll around on your heels!"

"Well…" Bilbo stalled, "perhaps maybe Eily would prefer-"

"Oh don't worry Bilbo," Eily piped, "you're not offending me. Gandalf knows I don't actually know how to ride anyway," she beamed at him with absolute trust.

"You were saying?" Gandalf asked with a teasing veneer to his tone.

Gandalf's taunts slid off the hobbits back like water on a shingle, again that oddly heroic Tookishness flared up in him and he (miraculously) mounted the pony in a single sweeping movement.

The lady Eily's trust would not be misplaced in this burglar, no sir.

However, once she was safely propped up behind him his face drained of blood as he tried to mask his frantic miming of Gandalf's movements as they all began to file out of the village, hoping that horses and ponies followed the same type of directions.

* * *

Ahead of them the youngest heir of Durin groused under his beard, or more accurately behind a strategically tossed section of hair and slumping shoulders. Kili had hoped the hobbit would slip off the pony onto his arse, meaning that Eily would have to be placed behind the next lightest rider.

This by sheer happenstance would have been him, naturally.

For her own safety of course.

* * *

Thorin scrutinized the scene from the head of the party, displeased by the display in itself; his burglar was becoming less and less impressive as the day progressed. Still, better that the girl ride with one who was less aware of her value to their goal. He pinched the sides of his pony skillfully between his heels and veered off ahead of the group, eyes steely with design.

But the dwarf king's resolute stare and inner deliberation did not completely escape external attention.

Ever the practiced observers Fili and Gandalf both surveyed the spectacle about them with careful observance: their conclusions could not have been more radically opposed.

* * *

Fili had thought little of his brother's trivial infatuation with the lady Eily. There was always the distant possibility that she was in fact his One, but it seemed unlikely.

Kili had always been more intemperate than the average dwarf.

In fact his younger brother's short attention span was the stuff of legend in the Blue Mountains due to his tendency to throw his affection this way and that between craft and pretty object.

And that's what she was really, a pretty object, a glittering novelty.

Or so Fili had assumed.

He had nothing against the girl of course; she seemed as well intentioned and dedicated as any of the others, and her blood was as noble and invested as his own.

Her origin and beardless face may have been shocking, even jarring, but as she laughed and doted on the hobbit and his chatter Fili could see her certain appeal.

But his uncle's interest in her was telling to Fili. His uncle was not the type to show interest in others who were not his kin or of immediate use, as was his prerogative.

Either his uncle was suspicious of her, or he had some use for her he had yet to reveal. Either way it was now Fili's unspoken duty to keep watch over her to ensure his uncle's intent, trusting without question.

He did not appreciate the extra task, but at least if his brother kept trailing after her like a baby duckling he would be able to keep a pair of eyes on her without drawing attention.

* * *

Gandalf picked up speed to trail just behind Thorin, lighting his pipe and enjoying the splendid May weather. Even from the front of the column he could hear Bilbo and Eily laughing and conversing, and it gladdened his heart.

The hobbit was working out splendidly and would soon win over the remainder of the company, of this he was sure.

Thorin however, troubled him deeply.

He knew that Eily would prove useful to their aim, and that the blessings of Mahal and the Lonely Mountain hung about her. But it seemed her mother's destiny was creating a distraction in the mind of the King Under the Mountain.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to introduce Eily so bluntly, but how else could he explain her inherent majesty (or her lack of beard without opening her character for accusation)? As the direct descendent of a First Mother there was a kind of reverberation around her, a deep inadvertent magic and a purpose Gandalf did not claim to truly understand, for she was the pawn of gods and the elder lines.

These burdens came to her naturally, just as the sons of Durin did.

The wizard had expected this as a possible side effect of course, too much of her mother lingered on her, but the devices of Mahal were proving more immediate than he could have anticipated, and he worried that they would work against the quests intentions.

For the line of Durin was one forged in loneliness and marked by clawing desire and unconquerable greed.

* * *

**Author's Note: Firstly, deep gratitude for the two kind reviewers: Sirenescence, and Luinwen-2013. I sincerely hope the story ends up meriting your encouragement!

Secondly, I would like to cite and give credit to The University of Waterloo for their Hobbit timeline/chronology (which is the timeline I will be using for its basis in the book, which is always my first choice for material) which can be found with a quick Google search for those who are curious.

Thank you very much for your time and I hope you've enjoyed (and will continue to enjoy) the story as it progresses**


	10. Chapter 10

Ch.9: Is That What Happens?

* * *

The first week or so of the journey passed very merrily and uneventfully.

The May weather was exceptionally fine and their supplies were abundant, and with the relative safety of this stretch of the East road they were able to sing and converse well into the evening and sleep past sunrise in safety (which was well, as dwarves and hobbits both are peoples fond of sleep).

Eily was often among the first to stir, and would do her best to busy herself all morning. At first this puzzled Bilbo, who easily recognized that she drew out simple tasks for the sake of seeming busied. But after a few days he realized she did this to avoid the bustle of the dwarves morning grooming.

For this was one part of dwarf life that she could not take part in.

* * *

Outsiders often think that dwarves are an unselfconscious, unpolished, or even dirty sort of people (this is probably due in no small portion to their unconventional table manners).

Nevertheless, Bilbo learned quickly (and would often remark in later years) that this was a very flawed assessment. Dwarves may have been a people of practicality, traveling in well-made but often inelegant garb compared to other races; but in the comfort of their own halls and hearths they happily adorned themselves in fine clothes and coordinating accouterments when they could afford it.

However, in all but the most urgent circumstances even the poorest and most inelegant dwarf took exceptional care in their personal grooming.

So every morning the company rose to attend to their beards and braids.

A dwarf's beard (the same as any human's head of hair) is unique; each comprised of differing textures, colors, densities, and grew to differing lengths.

Some dwarves (like Bifur, Gloin, and Balin) chose to allow their beard to grow to its longest possible length, and so hardly had to trim it but to keep the ends healthy. Others (like Bombur and Bofur) chose to shear off entire stretches of beard and so had to shave once (even twice) daily for their beards to keep shape. And of course there was all manner of braiding, trimming, and combing in between the two extremes that took place. Sometimes the beard was used to convey certain significance to the wearer: Dwalin had not braided his beard since the death of his wife some decades ago, and Thorin was careful to keep his beard even and trimmed, saying he would allow it to grow again when his throne had been restored to him.

At first it had seemed funny to watch the dwarves rise and labor over their beards (especially for a hobbit for whom beards were a foreign oddity), but after a few days Bilbo grew used to it. And upon the discovery that Eily was feeling self-conscious about her inability to take part he began to rise as promptly as he could each morning to help her pack and keep her occupied.

Typically this involved a mutual fussing over the ponies; petting them, feeding them treats, and collecting flowers and grass to give them later in the day.

For while neither were experienced (or even passably good) riders both had a certain soft spot for animals, especially for Petunia, the oldest and most broken in of the trail ponies. She was so docile that the dwarves trusted her to simply follow the most youthful ponies at the end of the column without even being tied or otherwise led. It was Petunia who had carried Eily from East of Bree to Bywater, following calmly behind Gandalf's horse and making it possible for Eily to ride without worry or effort (for she truly had no knack for it whatsoever), and who now carried the majority of the food and excess supplies.

* * *

On the morning of the twenty-first the dwarves took longer than usual to stir, as they had stayed up late hunting in the nearby brush for early summer strawberries, all of which they ate up happily over dinner, the merriment and song going into the night.

"Tell Oin to stop bothering with that patch, we're quite ready to move out," Gandalf huffed as he mounted his horse.

"Oin! Quit fiddlin' in the damn shrubs and let's go!" Gloin hollered from the back of his pony.

Oin was still hunched over, shuffling contentedly in the brush near where they had camped. He seemed convinced that he could locate more wild strawberries in the underbrush (as they had picked the exposed patches completely clean the night before).

Of course Oin was not making use of his trumpet as he did this, so he could hear none of the other dwarves or their protests from the back of their ponies.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and shifted in the saddle; those dwarves would sit here and yell at Oin's back until the sun set and Oin still wouldn't hear them, "I'll get him," he declared.

"Good going Mr. Bilbo!" Bofur chimed as Bilbo slid from his saddle and padded over to Oin.

"Oin? Oin?"

Bilbo prodded the dwarf gently on the shoulder.

Without skipping a beat Oin turned to face him with a wide smile on his face, pulling the trumpet from his belt and holding it dutifully to his ear,

"Why good morning Mr. Bilbo! Would you like a strawberry?"

Oin held out the open bag he'd been using to collect the berries in. For a moment Bilbo was impressed, Oin had gathered a rather generous amount of the ripened fruit, the small drawstring bag was well near full.

Bilbo had to twist up his face a little to avoid smiling,

"No I'm fine thank you, well, maybe just one."

He took the bag from Oin and nabbed a couple berries from the top, popping them into his mouth.

"Oh those are very good," he said, savoring the tangy sweetness.

These berries that had been concealed under the brush had been mainly left alone by passing animals and had grown much larger and sweeter than the ones they'd picked last night.

Oin had already turned away and continued pushing branches and tall grasses about in search of more.

"Well," Bilbo considered the possibility of making his mother's famous summer berry sauce to garnish a roasted chicken (though where he expected they'd come across a roasted chicken he could not tell you to this day), "maybe we've a few moments…"

"Bilbo!" Eily called to him from the road.

Bilbo sighed: she was right.

He tapped Oin again and spoke clearly into the trumpet, "Oin, the others are ready, we should set off."

Oin nodded agreeably and tottered over to his luggage.

Bilbo nodded satisfactory and rotated back to the trail.

Bilbo's eyes bulged quizzically as he turned to see only two ponies standing on the path.

"They said we could just catch up," Eily shrugged helplessly from atop Myrtle's back.

Bilbo's sweet round face began to resemble the red of the berries as he stomped his wide foot in the dirt, tight sandy curls flying about his head like an agitated halo,

"After all the time we've spent waiting on them and their primping and braiding?! Why of all the… discourteous… DWARVES!"

Oin did not seem so irritated, simply loading his pony and climbing up, "C'mon Mr. Bilbo! The road awaits!"

"I was the one doing all the _awaiting_!" he snapped, his tantrum not quite over, index finger brandished and slashing the air.

* * *

Eily let out the breath she'd been holding as Bilbo stormed back over to her, composing himself, but slowly.

"Could you please hold this?" Bilbo asked, handing her a small drawstring sack.

She nodded and tied it to her belt as he climbed up onto Myrtle's back, nudging her along with some tension in his legs.

After a few moments everything seemed to be back to normal. Oin was humming to himself ahead of them and Bilbo finally began to speak more cheerily (mainly about some kind of garnish sauce).

Then it began to rain: a cold rain that came down hard, the wind sweeping it so it came in sheets and at an angle, soaking them through and making the ground muddy.

* * *

It wasn't until near dusk that they caught up to the company (though they had had them in sight most of the day, apparently they could not be bothered with waiting on their three missing members). By this time all the ponies were exhausted from trudging through the mud and every member of the party was chilled to the bone and very bad-tempered.

To the right of the road the river had rose a great deal. Normally the embankment would have been long and grassy, the river deep but mostly clear and manageable; now it was a short slick drop into rushing water, deep brown from the churned up dirt, carrying fallen bits of debris from the forest.

A few wanted to stop to wait out the storm (for that was what it was now, not some summer shower) but there was no place to take cover from it and Thorin's mood had soured with the weather,

"No, we continue on," he half snarled as everyone stared miserably at his back.

Even Gandalf's expression was black, for his old tobey was surely soaked through and would not be fit for smoking again for a long while.

"Thorin!" Eily called up through the downpour, "We need to stop Petunia is falling behind!"

Eily looked over her shoulder again at poor Petunia, who was barely within sight of the rest and struggling her way through the thick, churned up mud.

"The ponies will be fine, we keep moving!" Thorin called back, thinking this more an excuse by her to stop and seek shelter than an actual plea for the animal's sake.

Eily's face soured, "Bilbo stop, I'm going to get Petunia."

Bilbo agreed and promptly pulled Myrtle off to the side as a few of the company passed by.

She hopped off of Myrtle into the thick muck and pulled her cloak tightly about her, barely able to pull her feet from the sludge without losing her boots to the suction.

"And just what are you doing?" Fili called back to her, irritation apparent in his voice, "What are you going to do? _Carry_ her?"

"I'm just going to coax her a little," Eily snapped defensively, pulling out an apple and holding it out to Petunia who had practically stopped walking entirely.

"Come here girl! Look what I have!" Eily chimed in a strained upbeat voice, brandishing the apple to and fro.

Petunia stared at the girl miserably, looking old and exhausted.

The rest of the dwarves felt for the animal, but the cold rain sapped them of much of their patience and sympathy.

"Once she realizes she's fallen far enough behind she'll pick up the pace. Now get back on your pony," Balin said, fatherly but plainly exasperated, urging his mount forward.

"Come on lad," Balin said stiffly to Kili, who looked as though he was going to join in the foolishness.

Kili frowned deeply but was resigned to Balin's tone, he was tired and freezing and the older dwarf was probably right anyway.

Now only Bilbo, the curious Oin (who had been desperately trying to discern the conversation through the sound of the pouring rain and the rushing river), and the openly vexed Fili remained waiting as the rest of the group trudged ahead.

"Just give her a moment!" Eily yelled stubbornly at the despondent company, turning back to the old pony with a fake smile and spitting the rain water out of her mouth as it poured across her face, "Come here Petunia!"

Her tone was dripping with a false cheer that quickly became pleading, "Come on girl! Please come on please girl!"

Fili was rolling his eyes and chewing on the inside of his cheek, "This is ridiculous."

He jumped off his pony and into the heavy freezing cold filth which splashed up his tunic and ran into his boots. He snarled as he fought the drag on his feet.

"Come on," he demanded, grabbing Eily by the arm, "We don't have time for this, she'll catch up."

"And what if she doesn't?" Eily snarled, turning on Fili with a rage none of them had seen let alone experienced thus far,

"You're just going to leave her? Is that what happens to the things that don't fit in? That aren't fit enough anymore?"

Fili tried to swallow back that bitter dose of words, his eyes turning back over to the peculiar Mr. Bilbo and the old, practically deaf Oin.

Then back to her, the beardless dwarf.

All of whom they had simply left alone on the road this very morning, because surely 'they would catch up.'

"That isn't the same," he said weakly.

Inside she knew that it wasn't, and inside he knew that it was.

"Never mind," she hissed, pulling her arm from him and taking a few steps forward, squatting down into the slop, "Come here girl," she said, this time with calm defeat.

Slowly, but with gaining speed, Petunia approached.

Fili could not restrain his smile even though his cloak was sticking to his body and he could only barely feel his toes and fingers from the cold, "stubborn thing," he said with admiration in his voice.

As Petunia reached her Eily stood and held the apple out for her to eat, "No. Just strong. Right old girl?" Eily beamed, petting the old creature's neck.

Fili was about to say he didn't mean the pony when the ground began to crumble.

* * *

Kili was half way up the line when he heard the panicked screech of the pony. He jerked his mount around and pushed his pony as fast as it could manage as he saw the earth under Petunia's hooves give way. The pony jerked and cried out, causing her to go into a roll as she was sucked down into the roaring river, dragging Eily down the bank with her.

Eily was holding onto Petunia's bridle when she fell, and the suddenness of it made her clutch the band of leather harder, pulling her entire body down the bank with it. She could find no hold with her feet on the slick mud, everything simply gave way under her, and only in the last instant did she manage to take hold of the huge exposed root of a willow tree. The water was sloshing over her shoulders but she could feel the remains of part of the bank barely under one of her feet.

Petunia was over her head near the center of the river, fighting the current valiantly. Eily refused to let go of the reins even as Petunia began to lose ground against the torrent.

Eily could feel the skin of the root peeling out from under her grip, tearing her blistered hands open.

She could not hold on.

"Swim to me Petunia! Come on girl!"

But the pony was lost in an insane terror, squealing loudly and beating what strength was left in its legs into the river hysterically.

The force of the fighting pony and the current would have washed a human away almost instantly, but Eily rallied every bit of her dwarven strength, gripping the root, planting her foot in the muck and pulling the reigns with a profound and wild Khuzdul scream.

For a moment she believed it would work, the scream seemed to snap enough sense into Petunia that she began to swim into Eily's pulling, working with her instead of against her. It seemed the pony's hooves were beginning to touch unsteady ground on the river bottom.

But that bottom again gave way and Eily lost the ground, the reigns ripped from her fingers, leaving ugly bloody trails on her hand.

Petunia was washed further away screeching, eyes fixed at Eily in a wide eyed deathly stare as she was gripped by the under current and pulled below and away, never to be looked on again.

Only then did the truth become apparent, and Eily began to cry, her chest heaving and sobbing.

Eily was going to die in this place; she would never leave this river.

The root snapped.

She screamed but was silenced by water filling her lungs as it pushed her under, burning the inside of her chest with cold and wracking her body in instinctive gagging and coughing.

"Oooold-NNNn"

The sound was muffled by the sound of her own body convulsing, trying desperately to expel the water from her lungs, she looked up, eyes blurry with dingy river water.

* * *

"Hold on," Fili yelled, taking in a throat full of water as he did so. He wasn't sure she was hearing him as her body was wracked again and again with spasms, but her hands suddenly clutched his tunic with a white knuckled control and he was able to dedicate his focus to clutching the slick rotting upturned trunk of some ancient tree that had fallen into the river decades ago and was being uncovered and dredged up by the storm. He could hear the entire company calling out to them, arguing about how they had to keep the ponies back for fear of the edge crumbling down and taking the rescue party with it.

Fili could only register a single syllable before his temple was struck by debris: "_Hold_."

So he held her.

* * *

"Hold on!" Kili screamed, "I'm coming!"

Up on the road and quite a few feet from the steep crumbling bank of the river Kili was snarling in frenzy, "Faster Bifur faster!"

Poor Bifur was equally distraught as he tried to finish the series of water knots that would ensure Kili too would not be lost to the flood as the others tied the rope to Gandalf's saddle horn and took positions to assist in pulling.

Bilbo was climbing up a tree so he could see down the slope to the other side of the river where Fili clung to the putrefying and peeling wood, but by the time he got there their heads were no longer above water, "They've gone under!" he screamed.

Before the series of knots could be finished Kili bounded off and launched himself towards the water as though his flesh had been aflame.

But he could not see them either.

"Where are they?" he screamed, a fear so deep and primal it choked him welling up inside.

Bilbo's eyes frantically combed the river, watching intently downstream but he could not see them, "I-I-can't."

He scurried down the tree, running thoughtlessly past the company to the perilous edge of the raging river, his face blank, muttering soft hysterics, "I can't… no… no…"

* * *

From the side Kili charged and struck the stupid, babbling little man to the ground, teeth gnashing and eyes burning viciously.

But the hobbit did not react, just sat slumped over dumbly, blood beading on his split lip.

"You were supposed to be watching!" Kili screamed, raising his fists for a fiercer assault when Dwalin came up swiftly behind him, gripping the young dwarf's wrists in his powerful hands.

Kili struggled wildly, "No! He was supposed to! It was his job!" Kili let out a series of long, guttural, wrenching screams in Khuzdul before sputtering into a series of gasps like he could not breathe. For fear of harming the young prince Dwalin released him as the young dwarfs rage began to break with pitiful guttural sobs,

"You were supposed to-" Kili collapsed to his knees without Dwalin to hold him to his feet and his body turned in on itself. He crippled over in the muck, mouth agape in a soundless, numb scream emphasized by painful hyperventilating gasps. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, palms spread wide into the filth, gripping and releasing it in tight, spasmodic clutches as spittle and tears blended with the rain on his fair face.

* * *

"You must look out for one another," their mother pleaded, "you must always have one eye on the road, and the other fixed on your brother. Promise me!"

"Of course Mama," Kili had groaned, shrugging off her concern because he was a full grown dwarf who did not need her advice.

* * *

"Keep close Kili, the road can be dangerous, I don't fancy getting separated," Fili said gingerly.

"Yea yea," Kili had snapped, "I'll be fine!"

* * *

"We must keep a close watch on her brother, Balin says she's an inexperienced traveler and she is under our families care so long as she's a part of this company," Fili cautioned quietly.

"I won't let anything happen to Eily brother," Kili had boasted.

* * *

"You were supposed to-" Kili howled into his filthy hands, "You were supposed to be _watching_!"


	11. Chapter 11

Ch.10: Forge Fire

* * *

Eily awoke with a stubborn sputter, dirt and grit coating the inside of her mouth. Her hair was knotted to her face with all manner of grime and twigs and her neck had a long red cut across it where the clasp of her cloak had been dragged until finally breaking free.

She groped blindly at her belt for her eyes burned red from irritation. Her knife (remarkably and thankfully) remained, but her axe was gone. Off to parts unknown, but there was little time to mourn its loss.

"Fili," she coughed, "Fili?"

She rubbed her eyes sternly, having no time to let them adjust on their own against the soil and dark. She was lying on her belly in muck and reeds; the rain had stopped. It would seem she had been washed into an oxbow lake by the rapids, and if that were the case it meant that the water level had dropped considerably since the flooding.

By the look of the first quarter moon it had been almost two nights, though her stomach could have told her as much, she could have crippled over from hunger were it not for the fear in her heart.

She pulled herself up, skirts heavy with caked filth, "FILI?" she called, not interested in whatever creature or beast may hear her distress, "FILI?"

But there was no sound. No mockery, no laughter, no chiding, no irritated snort, not even a painful moan.

"Fili?" she whimpered.

Nothing.

The immediate urge for most would have been to collapse into tears, but 'most' as a rule are not typically dwarf women.

"YOU SNOTTY INCOMPETENT PRINCELING," she snarled, "why'd you bother jumping into that river after me when you obviously couldn't even save your own skin? If you can't do a job properly you should know better than to start! Now I'm to chase you down the bank and through the wood?"

She growled and huffed and stomped a strong foot into the muck, "And you made me lose my cloak and my axe which I very much liked!"

Despair and rage often go hand in hand, but Eily often found she was able to let go of rage much faster than sorrow, and she had no use for either at the moment.

Her head momentarily cleared, she set several snares and began to build a fire.

She realized her best hope of finding the company would be following the river upstream until she found the east road and hoping their pace on the ponies did not outstrip her.

The thought made her anxious enough to consider just starting out now in the dark, but traveling at night would do her little good in the thick brush, she needed to dry out, warm up, and eat to regain strength.

She watched the damp makings of her fire smoke heavily, clinging to life in an attempt to flame.

Luckily dwarves are naturally good with fire, possessing a sort of extra sense about it, and she deftly opened up the birthing flicker to some air, singeing the tips of her fingers a bit but happy to do so in exchange for the flame that crawled over the wood.

She watched the fire dance eagerly, nibbling the edges of the leaves she provided like a hungry child.

But her eyes and thoughts were dark even as she mothered the flames for hours.

* * *

The screech of a hare in one of her snares resounded from the woods behind her, and she was thankful for the distraction of slitting the throat and peeling the skin, and as she watched the hare cooking and smelt its flesh, she sighed and let her hands fall to support her weight behind her, brushing unfamiliar leather.

She turned curiously and palmed the small drawstring sack, recalling how Bilbo had handed it to her for safe keeping.

She fought the knot which held it to her belt, finally wrenching it free.

When she worked it open she laughed outright despite herself; leave it to Bilbo to give her strawberries (and leave it to fate that these would remain on her belt by a single knot, and not her axe).

The berries had of course been crushed to a fine mush in the bag and were little good for eating on their own now.

It seems she was meant to try that berry garnish after all, though it was not exactly a chicken.

The smells blended together surprisingly well, and for a moment it lifted her spirits. Perhaps tomorrow she would find Fili and-

That thought brought a cold and bitter pang to her chest.

In all likelihood he shared the same fate as Petunia, body rolling under the surface until reaching the ocean, rotting and twisting forever in the tides.

She cringed to think of his fair face, pallid with death, sinking into crushing depths. Braids untwined, eyes…

What color were Fili's eyes exactly?

Had she really never looked before?

He was probably dead, and she could not say if he had green eyes or blue.

Her stomach tightened, and she was happy she had not eaten in over a day because she was certain she would retch.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, holding herself tightly, fighting what could only be sobs lurching up, eyes so cold and watery the fire itself should have been quenched by her gaze alone. She pressed her palms into them, she would not cry.

"What smells so divine?"

Rather than scream in shock her back stiffened and her head spun so tight and fast she worried she'd pulled a muscle, drawing her knife out in front of her and preparing to bolt from whatever man or creature of speech may appear.

Rather it was a dirt coated blonde dwarf who emerged (or rather strutted) from the thick brush.

Fili wore a wide closed mouth grin, and he sauntered in his usual fashion up to the fire and began to pick at the skinny hare as though he was approaching a grand table and pulling at a roast boar.

The ruse was quite complete and convincing until she took a more discerning look at him, realizing that the majority of the mud that stuck to him was matted with blood (which had come from a grizzly looking head wound) and his saunter had been emphasized by a painful tightening motion.

He let out an approving grunt as he sucked the meat from the hare's thin foreleg.

"Good to see you made it," he said nonchalantly.

"Where were you," she asked darkly.

"Is that anyway for a lady to address her savior?" he chided, his eyes glittered in playfulness mixed with pain.

She shifted uneasily, a feeling of indignation washing over her. It was very like him to make light of their situation, he probably thought he was protecting her.

As if she were as naive as Kili or Bilbo.

"I'm not your brother Fili, you can't brush this off like it was nothing. I owe you my life."

The corner of his mouth twitched a bit at that, "You would do the same for me."

"You don't know that."

"I do," he said, rather sanctimoniously, "You did it for a pony; don't try to pretend you wouldn't do it for someone you knew."

Eily began to pick at the rabbit, "Yes, well… I _liked_ the pony."

Fili chuckled slightly, holding his side as he did so for it was painful, "Ooo, dear lady! You should be nicer to dwarves bearing gifts!"

At this he pulled her axe from his belt, which had been concealed under his heavy coat.

"My axe!" Eily scooted next to Fili and took it from him gladly, rubbing the grime from its engraved blade, "Where did you find it?"

"It washed up not far from me downstream. I woke up a few-"

* * *

Fili stopped when he realized how close Eily had become. She had laid down the axe and was up on her knees, leaning her face close to his and nearly straddling his leg.

"What are you doing?" he asked flatly.

"Trying to figure out what color your eyes are."

Fili frowned at that, eyes narrowing, convinced she was up to mischief of some kind and no small amount uncomfortable.

He began to fidget to and fro to avoid her gaze, but her face followed his stubbornly, locked together as it were.

"Will you stop tha-" Fili stopped breathing when her hands took hold of either side of his face.

Under the caked on dirt, blood, and matted hair long eyelashes and resilient emerald eyes gazed on him steadily.

They were red and swollen, had she cried over him?

Her thumbs began to gently caress his cheeks, rubbing the dirt from them.

Was she going to kiss him?

He swallowed but still refused to take a breath as she pushed his knotted braids and fallen locks of hair out of his face. He found himself licking his soiled lips, wanting her to find them moist and warm.

"…blue."

"…Excuse me?"

"Your eyes," she beamed, "they're blue!"

She flopped back down next to him and picking a shred of meat from the hare, chewing it contentedly.

"I know I recently experienced a severe head injury," Fili said, "but care to explain?"

"Not really," Eily sighed, gazing deep into the fire, "Eat up, big day tomorrow."

Fili's eyes shifted about uncomfortably, and he rubbed his chapped lips self-consciously, hoping she had not noticed him moisten them.

He found lifting his arm to be quite painful and sucked a sharp breath in between his teeth.

Eily turned to him again, "You're hurt badly?"

"A bruised rib and a bump on the noggin really," Fili wheezed, adjusting his posture to something less painful, "otherwise just scrapes and the like. All better than drowning. You are quite alright?"

"Oh yes, yes," Eily waved away his concern, "Like you just some bumps and bruises, lost my cloak. But my axe has found me again so I don't need a thing in the world!"

"Except a bath… badly." Fili's nose wrinkled as he took in what a mess she was.

"Take a look at yourself prince piggy!"

Indeed they both looked terrible, their blonde heads were dingy brown matted messes, their faces and clothes painted over with mud, but neither fancied a dip in the freezing river again at the moment.

They spent some time in silence until Fili could stand it no longer, "This really is quite delicious, almost forget I'm outdoors and not at an Inn. Except for the bugs, and the cold, and the muck, and-"

"Can we not dwell on it please?" she snapped, smiling a little in spite of herself.

"-and the near drowning."

This time she began to swipe at him playfully.

It was a position he was used to, pleasing others and being laughed at, it made him at ease and he laughed genuinely.

"You're terrible to bring that up! Kili would never-"

Fili found himself wincing away at the sound of his brother's name, frowning deeply.

Why would he do that?

He pulled away from her laughter and she sensed it, sitting quietly and dividing up the rest of the hare.

There was no more laughter that evening as the remainder of the conversation turned to how they would find the others.

* * *

Fili awoke the next morning feeling… puffy. His face felt slightly swollen and his mouth itched.

When he reached up to feel his face he could feel tiny bumps in his beard and on his cheeks. His mouth, lips and tongue were definitely swollen and his breathing was impaired slightly.

"Fili! What happened to your face?" Eily squeaked when she saw him.

Suddenly the discomfort of his face was multiplied tenfold by his embarrassment, "I don't know."

Though his mouth was swollen and itchy he could still speak and be understood quite clearly.

"It looks like you've had a reaction to something," Eily gritted her teeth as she approached cautiously, it looked uncomfortable, especially those enflamed red bumps.

Fili shook his head, that wasn't possible. He hadn't come into contact with anything he didn't—

"The sauce!" Fili roared, an accusatory finger pointing directly at Eily, "What was in it?"

"It was just the strawberries Bilbo-"

"Strawberries?" Fili snarled, rolling his eyes and groaning, "I can't eat strawberries!"

Eily's eyes narrowed with suspicion, what did he mean he couldn't eat strawberries?

When it suddenly occurred to her that that night around the fire everyone had partaken of the berries except Fili, who had given his entire share over to Kili.

She remembered because Kili's lips and fingers had been stained a bright red all night and into the morning.

"Oh no…" she mumbled.

"Yes 'oh no,'" Fili snorted, scratching at his enflamed beard.

"Well for the grace of Mahal don't scratch it!" she barked, kneeling down next to him and holding his face gently, swatting his hands away with motherly authority, "wait right here."

* * *

Fili flopped onto his back with a huff, more agitated that he should be seen like this than anything. He was something of a vain young dwarf, and that he should be so exposed in front of the very dwarf he had fancied himself possibly kissing the night before…

Right before she had mentioned his brother.

A hallow sinking feeling crept into his belly, followed by a self-depreciating internal monologue.

She was a member of the company, under his charge, and continued to be a part of his uncle's designs for the reclaiming of Erebor (by all rights even the oblivious Kili shouldn't have been fancying her). He should not care if it were Eily seeing him like this anymore than he would if it were Bombur or Dori.

He resolved that when she returned he would act as such.

"I've found some chamomile!" she piped, crashing through the brush as she returned excitedly.

"We've nothing to boil it with, so I'll have to create a poultice for you." She said as she tore a clean strip from her skirts, "I think if we change it every three hours or so the swelling will go down in a day or so. You'll have to drink plenty of water." She sat down next to him and set to work.

Fili found himself absent mindedly working the frayed hem of her skirt between his thumb and forefinger while she sat distracted.

So much for resolving.

"Here we go," she said gently. Placing the poultice across Fili's jawline and again pushing his dirt encrusted hair from his face. Her brow furrowed slightly, "You'll have to hold it on there as we go, we can't waste any time waiting… I'm very sorry about the rabbit."

Her chest heaved regretfully and Fili wanted his entire face to be able to sink behind the medicated cloth, ashamed of requiring anyone's care and wanting more than anything for her to look at him with eyes that weren't full of pity.

He pressed the cloth to his mouth with his hand and stood, gesturing that they should head out as quickly as possible.

* * *

They walked the entire day in relative silence, following the high waters of the river that only two days ago tried to kill them. It was a little surreal actually, looking into the now calm water and observing the damage that had been done to the surrounding forest.

It was remarkable just how far downstream they had been carried, and Eily changed Fili's poultice twice that day before it became too dark to continue.

Eily had wanted to keep going, ever fearful of being left behind, but Fili knew too well what lurked in the wild at night.

"I'll start a fire, you lay some of those famous snares of yours and maybe we'll get lucky again."

They didn't.

* * *

They sat by their fire on the edge of the river and listened to their stomachs talk to one another. By now Fili's pipe weed had dried out, so he contented himself to smoking. Though even he had to admit it was less satisfying with an empty belly.

But while he was digging through his pockets for his pipe his fingers brushed his mirror and comb, and since then his mind was preoccupied as to how he probably looked. He knew his clothes were in total shambles, the fine fur of his coat was knotted with dried mud. Finally he stood, handing his pipe to Eily as he did so.

"What are you doing?" she asked with genuine curiosity as he stepped behind some thick bushes.

"If I can't have a full belly tonight I may as well have a clean back. Keep guard over that pipe, I'm rather fond of it."

She rolled her eyes, that water was bound to be freezing, he'd regret this.

She took an experimental puff of the pipe as a pale streak whizzed by, flapping its naked arms wildly as it launched itself into the shallow pool that formed on the edge of the river run.

The blonde head that emerged had nothing but shrieks and Khuzdul curses to confirm her theory.

Still though he stuck it out, scrubbing himself (especially his irritated beard, which was quite relieved by the frigid waters) doggedly until he was convinced he had attained a passable level of cleanliness.

He gave the fire a wide berth when he approached the water's edge again; cautious not to expose himself as he gathered up the clothes he'd left in the bushes. When he returned to the fire he was donned only in his breeches and boots and began to promptly wash out the rest of his clothes as well as could be expected.

Eily did not comment on this, truthfully she didn't blame him for wanting to be clean.

Some long minutes passed until eventually the temptation was too much and she waded out into the river fully clothed, not ready to take a full body plunge.

She twirled delicately, trying to work loose the filth in her skirts and Fili smiled under his damp, unbraided beard.

She looked like a moonlit dream… a nightmarishly filthy moonlit dream.

He chuckled to himself at that thought as she finally submerged herself, sputtering curses to Mahal when she came up for air.

When she emerged she slapped her soaking layers onto a rock near the fire, taking bracing breaths against the persistent chill of the water.

She sat close to the fire and pulled her legs to her chest, she was clad only in her linen dress, picking at its tearing hemline: he was splayed out in his breeches and mud caked boots combing his hair.

They both sat contentedly next to the warm fire, just watching it burn and not needing any conversation for a while.

"You should let me braid your hair," Fili offered out of nowhere, placing the last bead back into the braids of his beard, finally looking and feeling himself again.

Eily thought he was teasing her appearance, "Your face doesn't look as red… still swollen though… or maybe that's just how your lips always looked," she said, intending to be playful but coming off a little too cruelly.

"I mean it."

Eily didn't know how to think about this offer. Braiding another's hair was… intimate somehow. But wasn't that a key element on this journey? Didn't she want to be a dwarf like any other? And have family and friends who would braid her hair and invite her to dinner and tell jokes and sing songs with her?

She rose wordlessly and approached him.

* * *

Fili straightened when she stood, his strong chest tightening. He wasn't a bashful child like Kili, he did not blush when he looked at her. He stared appreciatively at her beauty with a calm self-assurance, holding her eyes with his. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight of her figure in the clinging fabric, but it was not the line of her hip or the full sloping curves of her breasts that enticed him so thoroughly (though he'd be a liar to deny that she possessed such allure), it was the confidence with which she approached him. She did not put on a maidenly show, did not quiver before him like a frightened animal. The tendrils of her damp hair fell and framed her face seductively, and from below her long eyelashes her eyes met his, and in the firelight they burned a deep green more striking than the halls of Erebor itself (a belief he maintained to his death). And when she turned to sit in front of him, back mere inches from his bare chest, he prayed to Mahal she could not feel the heat that must have been radiating from his body like a forge fire.

* * *

She expected that at any moment Fili would reveal that he had been teasing, that it was a well-intentioned but poorly thought out practical joke, so she eyed him carefully as she approached him. If he was joking, he didn't seem to be giving it away. If he suddenly started laughing at her she fully intended to kick him square in his face, but he didn't. He just watched her, waiting.

She could not have anticipated the pleasure of having another's fingers caress her scalp, combing her hair with their fingers, it caught her unawares and relaxed her. She expected that having another braid her hair would be strenuous, a series of tugging and pulling, but not so, Fili was gentle and quick, pulling the hair around her face into a loose twist, creating several small braids and pulling them to the sides and over. The entire procedure went far too quickly, but she smiled at the results he showed her in his mirror as she wriggled out from in front of him to sit at his side.

She had not felt this much like a true dwarf since before she had form, "Thank you," she rasped, tears filling her eyes.

* * *

Fili's hands fumbled stupidly as he tried to focus on combing Eily's hair with his fingers without pulling or knotting it further. His chest was thumping and his shoulders were tight, but he fought such childish symptoms down. He was only touching another dwarf's hair.

Even so he would have happily played with her tresses all night, but he twisted her hair up as quickly as he could to avoid suspicion once he realized it.

He couldn't believe her reaction when he had finished, she was near tears. All because he had braided her hair; a favor so small in dwarf households that most dwarves just did all their own braiding to avoid the trouble.

"You act as though I'd saved your life," Fili smirked; oddly proud of this handiwork if only for how happy it seemed to make her.

"Sorry, it's just no one has ever braided my hair before."

"Not even your mother?" Fili asked before thinking, eyebrow cocked.

His mother had taught him to braid Kili's hair before he could even lace a boot.

"My mother was a mountain Fili," Eily replied sourly, tearful appreciation vanished.

"So… no?"

* * *

"How is it you can build a snare, make a poultice, and build fires from nothing more than damp leaves yet you can't braid hair?" Fili asked over his shoulder, more to pass the time than put Eily on the spot.

The morning was bright and warm, his face had finally reduced to its normal size, and Fili sauntered as though he was strolling through a familiar garden, not desperately tracing a river to find his family and friends.

But their time together had made them each more comfortable, and she answered without insult or difficulty: "It isn't that I didn't know how to braid… I just hadn't. It seemed like the sort of thing that should be instigated by someone else… at least initially."

Fili supposed that made sense, he could never imagine just braiding his hair out of the blue as a child in the Blue Mountains. His mother had always done it until he'd gotten big enough to demand that autonomy for himself. The thought of never having another to start that… well, it did seem sad.

"So did your mother teach you all these things?"

"No. She taught me speech, history, fighting techniques, forging, metalworking, gem cutting, traditions, manners and etiquette, the important things for her. But no skills I could put to use on the road. You could say I learned how to be a dwarf from her, but I learned to be a traveler from Gandalf. I learned how to build a fire from him, and took to that easily, and riding also, that I never did take to that. The poultice and the snares I learned from Rohnan."

"Rohnan?" Fili prodded, for this conversation was distracting him from the otherwise boring journey upriver.

"Rohnan was a woodcutter until his wife and children died, after which he went into the woods for solace I suppose, and became a trapper," Eily said heavily, "he was a friend of Gandalf's who I lived with in the woodlands for three months east of the Misty Mountains. He taught me useful common tricks for living in the wild. Taught me the value of things."

"The value of things? Like the market price of sausages?" Fili chuckled.

"No… the significance of my quest."

At this Fili stopped, watching the dwarf girl's back judiciously.

"All the gold in Erebor could not restore what it was that pained Rohnan," Eily said diplomatically.

Fili could not believe his ears, and this from a dwarf of Erebor!

"…you mock us," Fili scowled.

"I do not! Erebor must be reclaimed, but for the right reasons! And forgotten gold is not one of them!"

Fili's lips curled over his teeth at the notion, "You know nothing of it! You are all high judgments from sage butchers and wizards, but you were spat from a mountain full grown, and until now you've never had an empty belly. You don't know what poverty is! What toil and indignity is! You don't know what it is to see your family spat on. I may be young, but I do not sit atop moral platitudes and lecture on the evil of gold when it is a concept I do not understand!"

With that Fili stormed ahead, and there was a strained silence between the two for some long hours until they reached the point where the river met the road.

* * *

"Keep to the trees," Fili said roughly as he picked up a turtle that had been sunning itself on a rock, slamming it against the stone until he could be sure it was dead,

"You like turtle?" he asked blithely.

Eily flinched a bit as he tossed the dead bloody thing to her, but she tied its corpse to her belt nonetheless.

They walked into the evening, following the road but keeping always to the trees and shadows, for their morose band of two was not fit to defend itself should unfriendly eyes be traveling the road.

It would seem that Fili had learned his uncle's lessons well, for his bearing had been proud and cold since their argument.

He had started their small fire without a word, and was now prying open the dead turtle's shell with his knife.

It seemed that he would rule with conviction and intractability should he ever come to the throne, at least on the exterior.

This led her to wonder what sort of king Kili would be, for even when he tried to mimic his uncle's stately dourness or his brother's cool intellect his own warm heart and general sense of wonderment (or oftentimes confusion) shone through.

Had she and Fili been on speaking terms she may have asked him his opinion, but it seemed his mood only soured when Kili became a topic of conversation.

"Fili," she said smoothly and quite out of nowhere, chewing on a strip of lightly seared turtle, "what is your mother like?"

"Tall." He said resolutely.

"No, what's she really like?"

"A lot like Thorin I suppose. Strong, dark hair, the elegant daughter of kings."

"No really Fili, what is she like?"

"Proud," Fili relented, a softness coming into his voice, "and very clever, she knows what you're thinking before you do most days. Kind," he added, "but… tired I think."

Eily could relate, "My mother is a lady most ancient. She too was very tired, and lonely I think, though I was always there once she had created me. There was a time when I would say or do anything to please her."

There was a long silence.

"Why do you think she refused him?"

"What?"

Fili stared into her eyes evenly, the firelight dancing on the shining beads in his beard and braids, "Durin. Why do you think she refused him?"

"I'm… well I don't think she did."

"Then why didn't she go to him?"

"Because she couldn't," Eily said surely,

"Mother never told me of the days before the Arkenstone, before Mahal gave her the eyes of the mountain. Whether her slumber was accidental or the work of some darker power not even she knew. She died alone before Mahal gave her a second life and that is all I know of it."

Fili's brow wrinkled with concern, for the girl's voice had darkened considerably.

"It is said that the First Father searched for many years, though no one knows for what. I think that maybe he knew she was out there but lost hope. He may not have died alone… but his heart did."

That came as a morbid comfort to Eily, who lived as the tragic shadow cast by the light of her mother's power. If her mother's story was a sad one, at least it was a story of parted lovers, and not rejected or forgotten ones.

"Do you think you're more like your mother or father?" she mused.

"I don't remember much of my father," Fili replied stiffly, "my mother I suppose."

"And Kili?"

Fili smiled, "Kili isn't like anyone; never paying attention to his lessons, beaming at strangers, laughing at everything and understanding next to nothing."

"You are unkind!" Eily chided him, "Kili is not some dullard!"

"No, no, I suppose not," Fili grinned, "but lacking in wisdom and overflowing in eagerness."

"Kili only lacks wisdom when it comes to you. The poor thing doesn't even realize his elder brother is a cad," Eily snickered.

"Have you noticed that every other time we speak it goes famously, but anytime in between you end up with your boot in your mouth? Perhaps we should begin a new habit, at the end of every conversation we must swear to leave one another with a compliment, that way neither of us can truly remain agitated with the other."

Fili was smiling coolly; his eyes alight with what seemed like flirtation.

"My boot in my-" Eily began as though to yell, but instead smiled slyly, "Why yes," she purred, "I think that is a very marvelous idea my delightfully obnoxious friend," she smiled teasingly, her voice full of pretension and playfulness, daring him to be offended and deal a verbal blow.

"Indeed my most pulchritudinous lady!" Fili smiled widely, bowing with equal airs formality and clownishness.

Eily's eyebrows shot up, "Impressive vocabulary master dwarf! Very well, what does it mean?"

"It means beautiful," Fili replied evenly, eyes gentle, his smile subtle under his beard.

* * *

**Author's Note: As always deepest thanks to my readers and reviewers! I realize that this chapter is very dialogue heavy, so please be brave and let me know how it worked out (was it tedious, did certain parts work better? etc etc).

Also to the Fili fans in the audience, please do not think I'm being biased because this particular relationship is moving so very slowly. I see Fili and Kili as being fundamentally different dwarves despite being such close brothers. So yes, no bias intended, the opposite really: while I still have no idea who/if anyone will end up with anyone I want each relationship to be represented realistically and with care.

So again if anyone has thoughts on what is working and what needs work I happily welcome all types of input (seriously, I made it through grad school so I am remarkably thick skinned, especially when it comes to making my work more enjoyable).

I hope you enjoyed the update and will return for the next!**


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 11: Reunions

* * *

_"Lay still," Eily insisted, pushing Fili back down into the high grass, "Do you want that rash to spread?"_

_The tiny red bumps went from around his mouth, across his chin and down his neck, "I think it may have already," her brows furrowed, fingers nimbly working at the laces of his tunic to reveal a spreading rash across his chest._

_"I'll have to make a salve for it," she winced, but firm hands grabbed her wrists and held them at his tunic._

_"I can think of a balm which needs little preparation," Fili mumbled, eyes locked on her blistered palms and soft fingers._

_His heart beat so loudly in his chest that she could hear it in her ears._

_"If you were to gnash the flowers with your teeth, your spittle would work it into a paste and…"_

_She popped a chamomile blossom into her mouth without question, chewing it into a fine paste and leaning her face close to his chest._

_Fili's breaths were shallow and his skin goose pimpled as she placed two steady palms onto his bare chest to steady herself as her tongue worked gently across his skin. And even though her tongue and the balm upon it was warm he was caught in shivers and chills that made the hair on his chest prickle and his eyes so hooded and foggy that he could only barely recognize the victorious smile on her busy lips._

_He gasped weakly as her soft mouth and terrible, wonderful tongue worked over his exposed collarbone and up his neck, stopping to nuzzle under his beard with her small nose, taking in the musky smell of furs, leather, and water rushing over stone. For some reason the sensation of her delicate fingers playing in his beard sent fire rolling down his hips, and his hands pushed their way up and over her thighs so that he could begin stroking and grasping at her rear, working to pull her hips to meet his. He had never been so disordered and yet completely gratified in his life, only knowing that if he could pull her to him the heat and friction would enhance his pleasure. But she was up on her knees and would not relent to him, even as he groaned in supplication beneath her._

_When her mouth had finally reached his he could bear it no longer, reaching out and clutching her soft braids and clinging greedily to them like the spun gold that they were, pulling her delicate face to meet him and crushing her tiny mouth under his, growling happily as he did so. He broke the kiss only to spit out the bit of chamomile that remained in her mouth, looking back to see that the fury of his kiss had left her lips swollen, her sweet face red from his beard._

_He smiled approvingly at the way she chewed gently on her lower lip as if beckoning him back to her. And he would return gladly, moving his hands to hold either side of her beautiful, delightful, beardless face: the gentle curve of her smile, the freckles that dotted her dainty nose, and the eyes, shining emeralds weaved with gold._

_Flowing gold._

_Troves of it._

_"Erebor," he moaned as he kissed her again all the more fiercely, biting into her lip, drawing blood and sucking greedily at the wound._

_For she bled gold._

* * *

Fili jolted awake with a choked scream on his lips, hands blindly groping the ground until his eyes adjusted to the dark and he began to realize where he was.

A dream, only a dream.

He swallowed the remaining panic of it, feeling the chill of a cold sweat on his skin. He licked his lips nervously and tasted blood there, but when he turned to Eily she was sleeping, undisturbed and unhurt.

The blood was his. He sighed with relief.

Only a dream.

* * *

For the past four days Fili had been awake before her and by his look each morning he had been awake for some hours prior. He was always ready to leave and had already checked her snares (this morning he was cooking the only catch, a squirrel) by the time she awoke. He had said very little of consequence to her since the night he had dealt her that compliment, and she had been too self-conscious to bring it up. Fili seemed perpetually unnerved, yet whenever she tried to ease him with conversation he seemed to be lost in thought.

He must have been worrying about Thorin and the others.

It could only have been midday when the company's tracks led them away from the road and into the woods.

"Why would they go in there?" Eily asked, eyeing the dark wood cautiously.

Fili shrugged, it didn't matter why they did, they did, and so the two of them must follow.

They passed many upturned trees and hasty footprints until they came upon it.

"Trolls," Fili spat, his strong nose wrinkling at the sight of them.

"Turned to stone by the daylight," Eily marveled, circling the huge bulky creatures, noting the large boulder to the East that had been cloven in two.

She poked at a large empty burlap bag with the tip of her boot, "What happened here?"

Fili did not seem interested in speculating, he merely walked the camp, observing the tracks and following back into the trees, "This way."

* * *

"By the First Fathers what is that stench?" Eily gagged, trying to step lightly so avoid slipping on the rotting leaves that carpeted the entrance to the cave.

Fili did not respond as he carefully dug through a barrel of weaponry and then over to a large rack of shelving, "They took nearly all the food that was edible, and a cask of the wine," Fili remarked, running his finger along the dirty shelves and noting the disturbed markings in the dust.

"How long?" Eily asked, rummaging through a cobweb ridden chest of goblets and trinkets.

"At least two days," he said, picking up an empty sack and stuffing what food seemed safe to eat (and some that would probably represent a risk were they not entirely deprived of provisions), "probably more as I am no ranger. And still on ponies which puts us even further behind unless they stop somewhere."

He sighed heavily and set his jaw firmly, "Let's get out of this foul place."

Eily nodded her agreement, stuffing a fine looking silver pen into her belt pouch as she did so, leaving the disgusting putrid hole without a backwards glance when a strange glimmer in the stone caught her eye, "Fili? Fili what is that?"

He backtracked and turned to stand abreast with her, leaning backwards slightly to gaze up where she was narrowing her eyes intently, "It's a message from Gandalf!"

"Not much of one. It's only two runes. How can you be sure it's from him?"

"One is the same mark he left on Bilbo's door," Fili had that smug closed mouth smile again.

"And the other?"

At this Fili cringed, "The other is not a dwarven symbol, which must be why you do not know it. It is the shorthand for Imladris."

Eily took a step back as though the rune may jump off the stone and bite her. Her mother had instilled her with no love of elves, but neither had she given her daughter a hatred of them. They were a strange people who took to living in the hot dense air of forests, and who preferred the voices of trees to the singing of stone. They were as foreign to Eily as any creature of Middle Earth could be, and the aversion that the King Under the Mountain and his heir had for them made her guarded, "Thorin would never agree to meet there."

"No," Fili agreed, "He would not."

* * *

Thorin brooded alone on a grand marble veranda overlooking tumbling waters and immaculate gardens, unable to believe he had allowed that haggard old gray bird to lead his company into the den of their enemy. He sighed in agitation even as his eyes shifted below to where his youngest sister son sat leaning against a pillar with a blank pathetic expression on his face.

The young dwarf's cheeks were sallow and sunken, his eyes heavy and dark from lack of rest. He held his goblet halfheartedly, more interested in tracing the delicate swooping engravings on it than drinking from it.

To his knowledge Kili had slept little in the past nine days, and eaten even less, but it appeared that now that the company had finally stopped to wait for Fili and the girl that his spirits were slowly lifting. Hope was daring to spring, encouraged by the damnable wizard. Rather than turning to find the lad weeping in utter silence Thorin now found him staring longingly at nothing. It seemed like progress, especially when the others were equally morose and taciturn in spite of Gandalf's relentless urgings that Fili and Eily would catch up now that they awaited them in the safety of Rivendell. Even so the last nine days had been spent in an almost perpetual bereavement but for complaints about the lack of meat at table and the occasional optimistic remark. Bilbo seemed to be the only one who took the wizard's interpretations as fact, content to tour the grounds and make lists of his preferred fountains to show Eily once she arrived.

Thorin did not need the word of wizard's to know that his heir and the lady of the Vividstone lived, he was convinced that should she have fallen he would have felt it in his bones.

He was as certain of his connection with her as he was unable to explain it, except to say that he had been born in the same halls as her, had bled into the stone before she sprung from it, and so she carried in her not just the lifeblood of the mountain but Thorin's as well.

* * *

It was on the evening of their second day that a speaker for Lord Elrond came to their common chambers before dinner, bearing what he called "glad tidings." That two dwarves (one a lady and without beard) had been picked up on the road by servants of the generous Lord Elrond at the wizard's request, and were being escorted to them as he spoke. Both were in perfect health, and would arrive by midday tomorrow, or perhaps later, as the young bearded dwarf had insisted on walking if no mount could be provided for him as no dwarf of Erebor would be carried like a burden by any elf.

At this the company had laughed approvingly, and Thorin had suppressed a smirk.

The sound of this news was like a resurrection, and much merrymaking occurred that night so as to confound the elves with the infamous appetite and strong stomachs of dwarves for several kegs of wine were depleted (and a great deal more would have been had Thorin not insisted on temperance so that all would be in proper shape to greet the return of the heir of Erebor). But all had had enough to make merry with, even Mr. Bilbo whose round cheeks were rosy with inebriation well into the night.

The next morning every dwarf ate a very substantial breakfast, finally able to enjoy their meals as their stomachs were no longer locked by grief (however denied), and saw to washing themselves and their clothes, at which point a great deal of roughhousing and laughter occurred (especially from Kili, who seemed to have sprung from his goblet the night before a new born dwarf made of nothing but delight and elation).

Thorin of course was absent; as was Mr. Bilbo whose hobbitish habits demanded far more shyness. Rather the hobbit took the gardens once more, memorizing his favorite paths, certain the lady Eily would be most eager for his company and comforts after being deprived of both for so long.

But he found that even the peace of Rivendell could not ease his excitement, and he spent much of his afternoon checking sundials, tapping his foot impatiently, and snacking out of boredom.

Fili and Eily did not end up arriving until part way through dinner, which caused quite a fuss and a rather large disturbance in propriety as the entire company immediately rushed from the table at the word of Elrond's speaker, completely abandoning the lord at his own table for a moment. But it seemed he was as patient as he was ancient, and rose to follow alongside the laughing Gandalf (though far more slowly and quietly).

* * *

Fili and Eily each stood agape in the grand courtyard, their escorts stood to the side, assuring them that the rest of their company would surely join them soon. Despite their guides ability to be somewhat condescending (not aided by Fili's predisposition towards instigation), they seemed like kind enough creatures, and their home was certainly quite beautiful (if not to her own liking), and its stones were ancient though they were not inclined to sing for her.

Overall she was quite impressed and only a little put out by the experience, Fili also was not entirely displeased (though he would not have admitted it to Thorin for anything), but both were very anxious to be reunited with their company.

"FILI!" came a growing call from above.

Both looked up to see a cavalcade of dwarves erupt from a hall and into the balustrade of a balcony that overlooked them.

Poor Ori was nearly split in two against the railing as the others clamored to call over his shoulder, a barrage of hellos and questions and oh how we missed you and Bofur thought for sure you were dead no I didn't yes he did come here laddie so I can squeeze the life from you, and all manner of affectionate babbling until Balin finally caught up and found the stairway from the balcony to the courtyard which set another race in motion down the stairs (nearly taking a group tumbling).

Fili was immediately overcome with elated bodies as his kin grabbed and embraced him and tossed his braids, praising him for his heroic rescue of the lady and his ingenuity at delivering her to Rivendell unharmed.

* * *

All this happened so fast in front of her Eily did not notice Nori, Dori, Ori, and Bilbo bringing up the rear and heading straight towards her.

"Eily!" Bilbo cried, near joyous tears.

But before he could envelop her in the most loving hug east of the Shire Nori took ahold of both her arms, chuckling, "Lass!"

At which point he promptly slammed his head into hers.

Eily was stunned.

Bilbo nearly passed out in horror, an outraged wail reverberating through the courtyard.

But by the budding look on Eily's face one would have thought she'd just received an early birthday present.

She was not in any sort of pain, quite the opposite, she was so happy she could have died.

"Nori!" she suddenly squealed, bashing her skull into his reciprocally and then turning to Ori, with whom she repeated the process.

And Dori, and Bombur, and Dwalin, and so on, typically also getting a hug or a firm elated shaking in their strong arms. Bilbo hung on her for a good long time, and her world was a flurry of acceptance and affection as everyone circled between her and Fili, and all words meant the same thing.

"We're so sorry"

_(You're our friend)_

"We missed you so much"

_(You're our sister)_

"We were so worried"

_(You're our daughter)_

"We're so happy you're back"

_(We love you)_

But one embrace stood out, for he suddenly grabbed her from behind and held her back firmly to his chest, his short beard scratching against the side of her face as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Kili."

His was the only connection without words, for he simply held her there for a short moment, but each heartbeat felt like a day in itself as his soft breath touched her skin.

Until the voices died down, and the crowd cleared, and Kili's arms no longer encircled her.

* * *

Thorin.


	13. Chapter 13

Ch.12: The King's Jewel

Thorin approached slowly, the company fanning out on either side of him. From the balcony the quiet laughter of Gandalf could be heard, and the elf lord's smile was small and gentle. Thorin's smile was warm and quiet as he approached, and he moved first to his heir, taking Fili's arm and holding it firmly. They spoke quietly together in Khuzdul for a moment, ignoring the ears of the surrounding elves, all of whom kept a respectful distance but were enjoying the jubilant reunion too much to disperse completely (for even dwarven joy, when pure, is a glad tiding to elven hearts). Fili's face was alight with pride and satisfaction at Thorin's words but Eily forced herself not to listen to them. Rather she held Bilbo's hand happily; the hobbit's handsome round face still glowing with tears and emotion.

The two were still sharing an affectionate smile when Thorin took hold of her arm delicately. She turned to face him so rapidly that she bumped into his broad chest, not realizing his proximity. His laugh was deep and soft as velvet, reverberating in the stones of the courtyard and reflected in the shimmer of tears and joy in each dwarf's eye (for they had not closed their ears to the words he spoke to Fili). He was their pride, this Thorin son of Thrain, this reclaimer king of the old blood.

"Thorin," she bowed slightly, unsure of what to say or how to react.

He took this chance while her thoughts were confused to place his large, rough hands on her shoulders. His grasp was heavy and he smelled of fine oils, but always, always there was another smell upon him, the smell of familiar stone she had recognized the first time he approached her. And it was as she was wondering if all kings smelled as such that he leaned in to place a kiss upon her forehead.

His lips were warm and rough, the kiss a comforting one.

"My lady," he began, pulling his deep gaze down to meet hers, eyes alight, "I am glad to see that you are safe. Durin's blessings, it seems, are upon you and my nephew both. Come, you shall sit at my side at table."

The rest of the company (barring Bilbo) seemed very happy with this arrangement, and Eily and Fili both were given grand reception at Elrond's table.

* * *

"My gracious Lord," Gandalf began properly once all had been reseated, "This is Eily, Lady of the-"

"House of Durin, my sister's daughter, under my charge and care," Thorin interrupted, his voice tight and his glare fixed on Gandalf.

Fili went stiff at this, eyes locking to his plate.

Eily's voice caught in her throat, unsure if she could counter Thorin's lie, but Gandalf gave her the subtlest of nods and she sat back, sipping demurely at her wine and wishing she were at the other table with Kili, who was enjoying dinner with the others in the form of song, jest, and mockery of elvish food. Her eyes locked with Bilbo's longingly, and the Tookishness in him bubbled up, causing him to nearly storm the elf lord's table to reclaim her. But Balin in his wisdom talked the fiery hobbit back down into his seat.

The elf lord seemed to accept Thorin's lie without question, welcoming her and praising her on her courage and durability.

"What think you of Imladris lady?" he asked thoughtfully.

"It is a most lovely realm," she responded quickly, pushing her cherry tomatoes to and fro on her plate (she did not care for them in the least, but had never wasted food in her short life and refused to start now), "the stone is ancient and beautiful, but I fear it has little to say to dwarves."

The lord smiled politely, "The stones of Imladris are probably shy to meet a lady of the house of Durin, whose blood is known by the stones of both the mighty Dwarrowdelf and Erebor."

At the names of the great halls Thorin flinched, possibly because they hung from the lips of an elf, or perhaps because both were mighty halls that had fallen. Either way the remainder of dinner was passed in a tense silence with only Gandalf to soothe it.

* * *

After dinner Eily and Fili both were shuffled off to be bathed and, as Fili put it: 'reshod like elven ponies.' Really the elves simply wanted to make their guests comfortable by offering them clean attire, but Fili insisted they decline, and Eily was inclined to agree. Dwarven pride did not allow for them to wear borrowed garb no matter how respectful the offer (or more accurately, charity that had not been approved by Thorin), and Eily had to take great pains to explain it to their hosts, who were only trying to be accommodating in their own fashion. She was happy to accept the proper bath though, and basked in the warmth of the waters until they went cold, happy to let the elven salts and oils pull the pain from her joints and perfume her hair.

When she arose from the bath her clothing had already been washed thoroughly, and she made a mental note to praise the elf lord on his thoughtful and speedy house staff. When she rejoined her party she found that Fili had not declined every manner of elvish 'reshodding,' for he too was bathed and laundered.

The entire company (excluding Thorin, who had been called away by Gandalf to discuss details of their journey) sat around a fire in a large courtyard surrounded by fountains. The sun was setting and there seemed to be no elves in sight.

"The elf lord gave us exclusive use of the courtyard tonight. We'll not be disturbed by any elvish nonsense," Dwalin explained, clapping a hand onto her shoulder gingerly, "Come have a sit, we've already broken into the wine so you better get your share before Gloin gets to it."

She took a seat in the congregation in an intricately carved chair, the arms of which mimicked the curve of a woman's body. She rolled her eyes disgustedly as she laid her hands on it (_elves_). Bombur passed her a very generously sized goblet of red wine before taking a seat in front of an elvish drum. Each dwarf it seemed had found some elvish equivalent of their preferred instrument (though each struggled with the size of the unwieldy and overly ornate things). Kili handed Fili a fiddle, placing his into the crook of his neck gingerly, and one would say he grinned broadly at his brother had the same grin not been fixed into his fine face since their reunion. The two wasted no time in tuning the things, and thus began a long string of song which the elves no doubt found unseemly but the dwarves found unquestionably splendid (though it could of course have been improved if the sound had been wrung from their own instruments and by the acoustic aide of high dwarven halls). They drank and sang and carried on as though this were their realm, and were it not for the silence of the stones Eily could have believed it, for the song of her people filled her with a pride and a joy her mother had never taught her. Tonight was the first night that Eily imagined that her home was not Erebor, but here with her people no matter what mountain they dwelt under.

And despite her lack of beard the wine and song made her feel entirely confident.

"Balin dance with me!" she demanded, half slurring.

The old dwarf tried to wave her away, but her wide smile and the goading of the others brought the old dwarf to his feet. He was surprisingly spry and led her quite well, "You're wonderful Balin! What other dances can you teach me?"

"What? You mean the lady doesn't know how to dance? Balin, step out of the way, this is a task for a professional," Bofur bragged, setting down his flute and strutting his way towards Eily, but he was beaten by Bifur, who took hold of her waist with eyebrows arched in mock seduction and began swooping her across the tile.

Bilbo was a little disappointed he had not been selected for the first dance, but he quickly regretted letting that emotion show as Bofur, for lack of a more feminine dance partner, took hold of the hobbit and began sweeping him across the floor like he was a broom, "This is completely unnecessary! Do put me down! I said put me down PUT ME DOWN!"

So Bofur released the fleeing Bilbo and began to jig merrily between Fili and Kili, who seemed happy to both fiddle and sway about at the same time.

Meanwhile Bifur was attempting to dip Eily.

"Alright ya great fool, move aside before ya drop the poor lass," Dwalin cut in skillfully, taking her waist and hand deftly in his large palms, "Just follow ma lead little one."

Dwalin was truly a skilled dancer, taking her about the courtyard easily and smoothly, a contented, nostalgic smile gracing his thin lips.

"You dance well Dwalin," Fili commented between long pulls of wine, taking a break from his fiddle.

"Of course ya great nitwit! What do ya take me for?"

Eventually Dwalin released her so that Bofur finally could instruct her in a jig, which it seemed she was not so skilled in, her feet coming out from under her numerous times. It was several dances until the music cut out for the players to take a break and so more drink could be passed between them, the fire now the only source of light but for distant elvish lanterns. Eventually chatter began to die down as the dwarves and their hobbit settled into the exchange of stories.

"I have a song," Kili declared suddenly, cutting Dori off in the middle of a rather dull tale involving the keeping of a particularly difficult goat, "Something to celebrate my brother and the lady Eily's safe return." He sat down his fiddle gently, which had been resting in his lap.

"Wait, you're going to _sing_?" Fili balked. While Kili usually took part in song, he had a weak voice by dwarf standards and knew it, never singing for very long or without accompaniment.

Kili's cheeks were flushed, and he stood on his chair shakily, swallowing tensely and nodding to Fili in confirmation.

"Who is going to sing?" questioned a deep honeyed voice from the darkness beyond the courtyard.

"Thorin," Kili breathed, turning absolutely white and scrambling from the chair, "N-no one. I was thinking about playing something, but I think I may have forgotten my pipe back in our sleeping quarters. I'll be right back," Kili stammered, patting his pockets for effect and turning to leave, "don't let anyone sit on my fiddle brother, I'll play you a song when I return."

Kili brushed past Thorin as he went, and Thorin's eyes turned to watch him go, his forehead creasing in thought. The dwarf king approached the fire, taking up a small bit of wood that had splintered from the logs and using it to light his pipe. He took an experimental puff from it before taking a seat between Balin and Ori.

It was several short songs and riddle games later before Thorin turned to her, "Eily, go see to Kili, he's taking too long to fetch a single pipe."

"Perhaps I should go Thorin," Fili offered.

"And deprive us of the only remaining fiddle? Nonsense, Eily will go."

Eily did not balk or shrink from Thorin's words, accepting the command of the king was another part of being a dwarf, and since this was the first and only order Thorin had directed to her personally she saw it as his way of making her inclusion with the dwarves of Erebor as official as possible. It did not escape her memory that she had yet to take an oath to Thorin, for as the first of her line she bore loyalty to no king.

But now was not the time for such thoughts, Thorin would be her king, and his word would be her law, "Of course," she nodded, rising and following in Kili's footfalls.

She had only to follow the smell of pipe smoke to find him sitting alone on the floor of a dark hallway far from their chambers.

* * *

"You're missed in the circle," she said simply, slinking down next to him and taking his pipe from his hand, taking a small puff. The thick flavorful smoke spun in her mouth; spicy, woody and warm. She exhaled it without verve or technique, and Kili chuckled at her inexperience, taking his pipe back and tasting her wine soaked lips on it as he drew in another mouthful of the familiar leaf. He would be out soon, and that reminder made him frown a little.

"So…" Eily prodded, "Will you be coming back? Or should I say I couldn't find you?"

Kili's frown deepened. She went right to the point, just like his brother.

Maybe it was the wine, or the pipe weed, or just how much he wanted her to know.

"I'm not like them."

Eily did not interrupt, though the statement confused her.

"I want to be. But I'm not. Maybe I'm too young, but so is Fili and he- It's easier for him, he understands things, and he is exactly what he's supposed to be. He's careful, and clever, and I… I seem to always say and do the wrong thing. He's the heir, and Thorin needs him."

At this Kili tossed his pipe into the lawn, frustrated by his inability to communicate what was in his heart.

The ashes and smoldering leaves fell from the bowl of the pipe and across the stone into the grass which then began to smoke with the halfhearted promise of flame.

Kili jumped up and stomped it out with his boot frantically, "You see?" he laughed softly, terribly, "I wasn't even supposed to be here, Fili had to beg Thorin to let me join the company! We're only five years apart you know, but no one questioned that Fili would make the journey to the mountain."

Kili's words were mumbled and twisted, emotion working through them, "And when you… when you fell… it was Fili who… Fili…"

He slumped down again, "The heir and the spare," he whispered bitterly.

Kili felt warm arms wrap around his neck, a soft and battered hand caressed the bangs from his forehead gently, and a curtain of blonde hair fell in around his face as a small nose nuzzled and rested next to his ear.

"It's alright Kili," she cooed, "Fili and I are safe. None of that was your fault."

She knew the contact was entirely inappropriate between a disgraced dwarf such as herself and the noble second heir of Durin's folk, but she could not resist the urge to provide comfort. And though she did not hear all of his words, and so could not understand their full implication, she was certain part of his bitterness rested with her; she was the cause even if he did not blame her.

Kili sighed, she did not understand the darkness that had crept into his heart when his brother's name crossed her lips; a deep, rapacious, and ugly wound had been dealt to his heart weeks before, and it grew more putrid each day. Tears rolled down his young cheeks as he gripped tightly to the hands that held him.

Was this how the damned felt?

He was too young to know and too naive to articulate the question.

"Everything will be alright," she continued, "We shall take back the mountain, Thorin will sit atop the throne, and none of us will be lost ever again."

It was an optimistic lie, the kind one gave to children, she could not possibly promise such a thing with the dangers that lay ahead.

He hated it.

He had left the safety of his home in the Blue Mountains craving uncertainty, aching to prove himself a brave and heroic heir to the mighty line of Durin, to be the deserving son of his great fathers… of Thorin.

But it had been only a few short weeks and already things were not as he had expected, and he had not had the opportunity to show his quality. Rather, and as usual, it was Fili who had stepped up where Kili hesitated, and who wisely contemplated when he so foolishly acted, held his tongue where Kili spoke rashly, and had the proper words when Kili was choking on his own sentiments.

He wanted to do something right, have something that made his claim to maturity and his title of Durin ring true. He was ready and wanting, even waiting for it, for her, for the reason outside himself that would drive him to great deeds as the warriors and kings of old.

But beyond all that he wanted this warmth, this embrace, these hands, this face.

That face.

Again he acted without thinking.

"Kiss me?" he muttered, near inaudible.

She stiffened behind him, pulling away ever so slightly.

He swallowed his heart back down into his chest, for he was certain if he spoke again it would erupt from his mouth and leave him dead and cold on this silent elvish stone.

But she was not moving, was not even breathing.

He could not lose her now.

"I- I have no token, nothing to offer," he stammered quickly, "but I wish to court you. I- I want you-" his mind was pounding, his heart searching. Or was that backwards? He couldn't tell.

His hands held hers against him, and he prayed this moment would not end, because at least if she held him silent forever she could not reject him as she surely would.

How could he have been so impulsive? To ask to court her with no token of devotion to offer? How presumptive, how disrespectful, how reckless, how foolish, how childish and sickening and needy and everything he didn't want to be but knew he was.

She took long breaths now, slow and shaky.

Had he been sitting here a moment or a millennia?

"Kili. Kili!" The voice was loud, barking as though irritated but from far away.

Eily's arms slid away from him like sunlight behind cloud, and he knew when he turned she would be gone.

"I'm here uncle," he called.

* * *

He heard Thorin's heavy footfalls against the stone, "I thought you lost but I did not think I would find you dreaming in the grass. Come back to the courtyard, Fili wishes you to relieve him at the fiddle; it seems you are the superior bowman in more than one respect."

Thorin was smiling, his affection apparent in his eyes. He was at his ease this night.

Kili, plainly, was not.

"You are troubled?" Thorin asked, "Fili and Eily are returned to us, you should be celebrating with the others. I know this place and its… foreignness makes you yearn for home, but rest easy nephew, we are together again and soon enough we shall sleep in the halls of our fathers."

Thorin thought these words all that were necessary, and Kili wanted to believe it also, but his fiery heart knew better.

In truth Kili both knew and did not know what would ease him, but he assured himself that he would try again, and next time he would be properly prepared.

He would win her.

He would claim her.

And he would do it properly as a son of Durin, not like a sniveling child in the grass. He only hoped his display had not made her revile him irreparably.

Kili stood, wiping the tear tracks from his face, brightened with an avaricious determination.

"Yes uncle, you're right," he strode back to the fire with new confidence, with something to prove.

* * *

Thorin shook his head and smirked, the emotions of young dwarves were much more profound and tumultuous than other races could ever understand, it was what allowed them to cling to lovers and grudges over long lifetimes into death and beyond, and made them as strong as the earth they wrought and worked.

"You can come out now," Thorin said distantly, not taking his eyes from Kili's back, which had fast faded into the dark of the corridor.

Eily slipped from behind the large pillar, soundless not intentionally but as a result of how heavy her heart felt, "Thorin," she dipped respectfully, hands knotted into her torn skirts.

Thorin held out his hand to her, a soundless gesture to join him under the moonlight.

She approached him slowly, "I am sorry I did not send him to you sooner I-"

Thorin silenced her as she got within reach with another light gesture of his hand, "Kili is young and zealous, and sometimes he becomes erratic. He does not control those impulses as well as befits his station, but he will learn. Every son of Durin is as ardent, especially in youth. Kili has yet to be properly yoked."

"I do not think that 'yoking' Kili is the best way to encourage him to be the leader you wish him to be," Eily said thoughtlessly.

"It is not my wish to quell his enthusiasm, but he must learn. He is a dwarf, not some intemperate man or elf; he must learn to be steady."

"Maybe he is just another kind of dwarf," Eily cursed herself the moment she said it. Who was she to counter the King Under the Mountain in regards to his own kin?

Thorin sighed tolerantly, "You sound like Fili, always making excuses for him. But you and Fili both are young, yet you do not behave as Kili does. Like his elder brother and his mother before that you admire his spirit, but I do not have that luxury if I am to reclaim our homeland."

Eily lowered her gaze respectfully, and though they stood abreast Thorin nodded to acknowledge it, "It is good that you understand, we must consider the repercussions of every step on this journey. That is why, for the time being, I think it best if you stayed close, and treated me as your uncle."

Eily felt a strange knot in her stomach, "But why? I do not think the elves-"

"You are still too young to understand the treachery they are capable of. Do not mistake me, I am grateful for the Lord Elrond's help, but you would be shocked to see how quickly his aide would turn against us if he knew our aim, or who you are."

Eily was confused and somewhat outraged at the notion of being held captive by elves, "I have no value to any elf, nor is it their concern if we should retake the mountain."

Thorin nodded, "No, it is not their concern, but they are meddlesome by nature. And the concept of a lady born of stone and fire, as ancient as them… it is best they never know. So can I trust this to you?"

His gaze turned to her, soft and blue as velvet, quiet and patient.

"Yes," she said, "Of course."

Thorin smiled knowingly, "When we retake the mountain, this loyalty shall not be forgotten," at this he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled from it a delicate golden chain, at the end of which hung a square diamond the size of her fingertip, woven intricately into a cage of gold.

She felt like a cold blade had just severed her spine as he took her hand tenderly into his, placing the necklace into her palm.

She stared dumbly at the glittering thing until he used his free hand to gently tip her chin up so that their eyes would meet.

Her king stared her down, her fierce; black bearded, virile king. His eyes were the calmest of waters as his well-shaped lips perked up into a somber smile, "It pleases you?"

She swallowed stupidly, her mouth arid as the sands of the Haradrim. But Thorin simply chuckled, his voice a rumbling and sensuous symphony, "I am glad."

His hand now moved to hold her blushing cheek in his palm, "Though I have little to offer now, you shall be draped in gems and silks when I retake my kingdom. With the daughter of a First Mother at my side, seated beneath the Arkenstone itself in the wealthy halls of my forefathers, no one would dare question the providence of my reign. Our heirs will rule under the mountain onto the ending of the world, with armies vast, and wealth ever flowing. You will be my crowning jewel, and I will keep you forever."

Eily's mind raced, this could not be. But what right had she to deny her king? Was this not her destiny? To fulfill her mother's lack, to reclaim her honor? And what better way than to take the hand of the first heir of Durin? She respected him, even loved him...

But it was love for a sovereign, not a lover.

And Thorin did not love her, he saw her as an object, an arcane totem with which to assert his dominance over the other six dwarf lords. A gem to set into his crown.

_The King's Jewel._

"You will understand…" she whispered, "If I do not answer where I stand."

Thorin's smile was self-assured, "Of course," his hand moved from her face to gently finger the braids in her hair.

Braids she had replicated from Fili's example.

Fili… Kili?

"Your Majesty," Eily stuttered quickly, "I should mention before I accept you as a suitor that your nephew has already approached me about the matter of courtship."

Thorin's brows knit together, "Oh?" He did not seem angry so much as amused as he began to undo her braids with his strong fingers, "I had not heard?"

"It was only recently proposed."

Thorin's eyes examined her closely, and for the first time his gaze seemed like more than that of a concerned leader. They were now the discerning eyes of a craftsman, assessing the material he was about to work with. As his strong hands smoothly braided her hair the thought of his hands working her like warm clay made her shiver with both sickness and excitement.

"I see no token of his," Thorin purred, somehow sensing the filthy nature of her discomfort and reacting to it instinctively.

"H- He did not supply one, only a promise t-"

Thorin rolled his eyes in amusement, "Kili knows the ways of our people as well as you or I. If he gave no token, I cannot take his claim seriously. Which means there is nothing barring you from accepting me."

Eily's eyes briefly revealed her heartache before covering the emotion with a wall of pristine calm. Kili would never challenge his uncle's claim to her, and to reject Thorin as a suitor was to risk losing her place in the company and among the dwarves of Erebor as a people. Her acceptance was tenuous as it was, but this only made matters worse, "I think..." she stammered, mind reeling for an excuse, "I think that I must find a proxy."

"A proxy?" Thorin was rubbing the tips of her hair between his thumb and forefinger absentmindedly.

"Yes. In place of my elders. It would be improper for me to accept you without consulting any family."

Thorin's eyes narrowed discerningly. It was true, no proper dwarf lady could accept a suitor without the consultation of an elder. It was a matter of propriety, and could be the difference between wielding the influence of the First Mothers or having his courtship ignored by the other dwarf lords.

"Indeed," he acquiesced, "You may select a proxy from our companions, as every one has my trust and respect."

"I will name him on the morrow, but for now I think it has been a trying day, and we should save this conversation for another time."

"Of course my lady," Thorin bowed slightly before offering her his arm to escort her back to the courtyard where the others were preparing to adjourn to their beds.

* * *

It did not escape Fili's attention that when Thorin escorted Eily back to the circle that her hair had been braided by hands far more skilled than her own. But then nothing concerning her escaped his attention nowadays.

It was terribly annoying.

But not so annoying as the bit of thin gold chain that hung from her belt pouch. The instant his eyes met the twinkling band she rushed to shove it back into the pouch, smiling with a brightness he knew to be false.

"Bilbo!" she cried, rushing to him and disturbing the hobbit's leisurely smoking, "One last dance before the night ends!"

Bilbo sat down his pipe and stuffed his thumbs into his jacket pockets proudly, "Very well, I think you'll be happy to know I'm one of the best dancers in the Shire, so long as the tune isn't too fas-"

"Kili!" Eily roared, "Make it a fast one!"

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks as always for your patience and for reading! Hope you had fun with this new chapter! As always suggestions and reviews are welcome!**


	14. Chapter 14

Ch. 13: Relent or Rebel

* * *

Eily's footfalls were a whisper against the stone, which now seemed to be mocking her in the language of the elves, sighing melodically as it was.

She did not know where she was going, only that she needed to sleep but wanted to wander, her heart aching from Kili and her mind reeling from Thorin.

She came to a clearing with a fountain with what would have been a breath taking overlook had she not already been robbed of breath. She sat weakly on a pale wooden bench and stared off at the mountain range helplessly, "Help me mother."

"The hour is late for a lady to be wandering."

It was a voice which seemed synonymous with gentility and strength.

"My Lord!" she jumped up and backed away from the approaching elf, dipping low and grabbing her skirts in a botched curtsey.

But his face was not strained by offense, and he smiled conservatively, "Gandalf tells me you are of the Lonely Mountain."

He kept approaching until he passed her, moving to the very edge of the overlook with elven surety.

"Every dwarf of this company calls the mountain home, I am n-"

"And how is Durin's One? Does she continue to rest in the mountain?"

Eily stared fixedly at the elf's back, face pale and bloodless with panic.

The elf lord turned to look over his shoulder at her calmly, "Yes, Gandalf told me."

She braced herself to scream, a Khuzdul warning incase her brothers were close enough to hear and perhaps escape.

"Do not be troubled lady; I have no intention of trying to stop you."

Eily sensed no lie in his voice, for indeed if he had wished it he could have imprisoned them all by now.

"My mother is departed. She perished giving me form. The light of the Arkenstone is dead."

"Is it now?"

* * *

"It is a dangerous game you play Gandalf, setting her directly into Thorin's hands."

The elf lord and the wizard stood on either end of the lord's private library; the music of the dwarven guests was reverberating down the halls from the not so distant courtyard.

"Thorin's will is strong. I have confidence in him, and the drake's power must be checked."

"It is not the drake that concerns me Gandalf. There is a sickness in that mountain, and it radiates from that jewel. A jewel which you tell me no longer shines and has birthed a daughter onto Middle Earth for a purpose we cannot possibly understand."

Gandalf's jaw opened and closed, as it was prone to doing when he had no quick response, "Aulë has set her on a course, and that course is one of a mortal life."

"Gandalf," Elrond's voice was dark, "Ever has Aulë doted on his creations, not all of them living up to his gifts… Durin's One has been both a boon and a blasphemy upon that house. And now that spirit clings to the life of this dwarf child. You cannot predict what she will do!"

"Eily has a good heart, and she resembles more the dwarves of the bygone age. She has a love of scholarship; she will learn from other peoples and recover the lost knowledge of the dwarves. She shall grow wise and be a blessing onto the house of Durin, I am sure of this."

"It is not the child I speak of Gandalf."

* * *

Eily began to stand straight, not concerned now with fleeing but rather appearing strong. She disliked speaking of her mother more and more as her journey progressed.

"Yes my gracious Lord. Her last wish was for me to rejoin my people, and restore our honor."

The lord Elrond flipped his wrist, sending a wave of velvet out from under him so that he could set himself onto the bench in one fine graceful motion. Still he did not turn to face her but rather admired the moonlight.

"And how will you do that?"

His question did not smack of insult in the least, and so she answered plainly, "By seating Thorin on the throne of Erebor, slaying the beast, and restoring my people to glory."

"A noble goal…" Elrond admitted, and for a long while he was silent, making Eily believe he was done with her.

"Some would think that you have equal right to that throne," the elf lord said just as she was turning to find a more secluded spot to contemplate her predicament.

His words froze her to the spot and her every hair stood up in a tight rage and grim curiosity.

"Your blood is just as ancient, and you are the daughter of the Arkenstone, the heart of the mountain itself, disgrace or no… Many a dwarf would want you for a bride for what you would signify for their reign. Mahal's blessing itself gave you life, a claim no other dwarf of this age can levy… Some may even rush to call you The King's Jewel incarnate."

"I don't understand," Eily said, half choked with a desperate horror, these words were treason.

"I am simply saying that dwarves have a deep love of all things that glitter, and there may come a time when the jewel has no further use for the king."

Eily spun on her heel, "I will entertain no more of this treasonous muttering!"

"Is it treason?" the elf lord asked smoothly, "I was not aware you had sworn the blood of your line to the service of Thorin."

Eily gawked shamefacedly, "I- there has not been a proper moment- I intended-"

The elf lord stood coolly, sweeping back down the hallway he originated from, "You owe me no excuses or apologies Lady of the Vividstone. You are of the mountain…

And mountains bow to no king."

* * *

Gandalf chewed the inside of his cheek in aggravation as the lord Elrond ascended the stairs to meet him. He did not turn to gaze on the elf or acknowledge his arrival; he was too irritated at the moment as he watched the young Eily storm off in a flurry of horrified skirts.

"You had no right to say such things," Gandalf finally said.

The elf lord cocked a well groomed eyebrow, "Is this not Imladris?"

Gandalf scoffed, "Very well, you had the right but it was _not_ right! I'll not bicker semantics with you at this late hour!"

The elf sighed, "Gandalf if she is to shake off the specter of Durin's One and restore her honor she cannot quake at the word of Thorin Oakenshield."

"She does not fear him, merely respects his position."

"He has proposed himself as a suitor for her Gandalf."

Gandalf's face paled to a shade to nearly match his beard, "How do you know this?"

"The stones of Imladris do speak to their lord when the need is great enough. The girl needs protection from him Gandalf. He will use his influence over her to bend her to his whims. And he will use her to bend all the seven dwarf kingdoms to his purpose."

Gandalf walked slowly across the room, further away from Lord Elrond as though distance would lessen the blows of each word.

"He is not wicked Gandalf, but the temptation may be too great for him, he has much to prove. And he has full command over her world: a word from him and the dwarves of Erebor and beyond will shut their doors to her forever. What can she do but relent or rebel? But that is a choice for her Gandalf, even if it does not suit your designs."

Gandalf stood staring into the stone walls, silent and contemplating.

"Gandalf, she must not swear herself to him."

* * *

Eily stormed in what she thought was the general direction of their appointed sleeping quarters, seeing many familiar fountains and statues along the way and too agitated to recognize them properly, "Damn elf craftsmanship, it all looks the same!"

She cursed and mumbled to herself in Khuzdul as she went.

Elves.

Meddlesome.

Traitorous.

They understood nothing of loyalty, of honor.

And how dare an elf lecture her on what a mountain does and does not do?

Yes, a mountain did not bow, it did not kneel, and it did not relent.

But the king shapes the mountain, carves it out, makes it valuable, makes it home.

Without kings and a people to inhabit them mountains were hallow rock: the stone could sing, but it would have no sound unless heard (that was a lesson she had learned bitterly at her mother's expense).

Without a king and a people… what was she?

Was she just a fleeting bit of magic, expelled from a shining gem and golden troves like some fleshy afterbirth?

"So that's where you've gone off to!"

She looked up from her frustrated crisis of conviction to see Bilbo padding gently across the smooth stone; the poor thing had yet to adjust to all the snoring that the others produced.

"Can't sleep again Bilbo?"

Bilbo's plump little cheeks perked up slightly and he clicked his tongue like a scolding aunt, "Not with Kili stepping on me every other minute! He's been fussing with something since the celebration ended and he keeps trying to step over me and he's none too good at it!"

Eily grinned halfheartedly at the thought.

"Finally I just gave up and decided to find other accommodations, but when I passed your room on my way down the hall the door was wide open like you hadn't even gone to bed yet."

The hobbit narrowed his eyes at her in playful accusation.

"I'm afraid sleep eludes me also."

"Ah," said Bilbo wryly, "Kili stomping on top of you too?"

"More than stomping I'm afraid," Eily sighed, too tired to clarify.

It took a moment but she smirked as she realized Bilbo's thoughts had taken an inappropriate turn and he was preparing a long winded scolding, "Though not on top of me."

Bilbo recovered his flabbergasted expression quickly, waving his hands about as though to shoo away whatever imagery he had conjured, "Well yes, absolutely, of course not, no, no no, no, _no_."

"You're rather funny when you're tired Mr. Hobbit," Eily smiled.

"Indeed... Well... To bed?"

Eily produced a phony dismayed gasp, "Why Mr. Baggins! I would never have guessed you for a cad!"

"Not my bed your bed!"

She arched her eyebrows at him, a teasing grin plastered to her face.

"Not- Jus- Go to sleep Lady Dwarf!" Bilbo huffed, bringing his critical index finger to bear on her, shaking it to emphasize the scolding.

"Peace! Peace Bilbo! Sheathe your weapon!" she giggled, holding up her hands as though to shield her face as she motioned to return to her quarters.

* * *

As she approached the door to her modest chamber, she could hear some of the others snoring. Over the weeks it had become an oddly comforting noise, so she left her door open so that it would be in the background as she slept.

The gentle breeze and the sound of water washed most of it out, but the thought was there. She sat on the edge of the over-large bed and wondered how she would ever manage to sleep in such an ocean of sheets.

She began to fiddle with her belt; pulling it from her hip with impatient hands (she truly was exhausted). As she did so a pouch came loose, and from it fell the long chained diamond necklace Thorin had offered her. It made a soft 'plink' as it hit the stone and she groaned audibly to pick it up. Teasing Bilbo's stiff sense of propriety had put her in a much finer mood, and now this damned thing was reminding her of everything she did not want to think on but knew she must.

There was a soft patter outside her door.

Who in the name of Durin would be wandering about at this time of night other than pretentious elf lords, insomniac hobbits, and miserable dwarf maids?

At first she laid back on the bed, intent on ignoring the footfalls and going to sleep, but the padding of feet became more urgent and erratic.

She threw her pillow across her face to smother a frustrated snarl, "Who's there?" she asked, voice muffled by the goose feather pillow and rasped from fatigue.

"Oh, did I wake you Eily?"

"Nooooooo," she groaned, "What are you still doing wandering around Gloin?"

She could hear the elder dwarf enter the doorway. She could practically hear him stick his thumb into his belt and rub his full red beard with his free hand.

She really did need to take some time to herself.

"Kili's been in a state since we bedded down for the night and well, I suppose I'd like the lad to settle down some, so I'm helpin'."

Eily pulled the pillow from atop her face, from the corner of her eye she could see through the curtains that the dark of the night would lift within a few hours.

"Help with what?"

Gloin stiffened, her voice probably sounded tighter than she had intended, and her face was strained and tired, dark circles hung beneath her eyes.

"Well… erm… I'm not sure the lad will want me to tell ye… but he's been tryin to write a love letter to accompany 'is token."

Eily was too tired to force her face to hide her emotions, coming off as astonished and wounded with a touch of what felt like nausea.

"I know I know," Gloin shrugged, "Seems strange. I was as confused as yerself, he's very young but when a dwarf says that's it, that's it. Unfortunately the lad's terrible at expressing 'imself at times."

Eily nodded in acknowledgment, "Which is where you're assistance becomes valuable."

Gloin was one of the few in the company who had wed, a match which at the time had not been advantageous for his intended, but which he had won with determined (and well written) wooing. The tale of Gloin reciting his original hand written poetry (quite verbose and risqué by dwarf standards) from under balcony every evening for sixty seven days until his wife accepted him as a suitor was one of Oin's favorite stories. Gloin always liked to add that he hadn't even brought the best verses out yet, whatever that meant.

Gloin puffed a bit at that, "Aye, but we can't seem to locate any ink for 'im."

"Ah well, I'm no help there. Perhaps you should tell Kili to just wait until morning to write the letter?"

Gloin sighed patiently as though he were talking to a child, "Yer too young to know this lass, but dwarf passions don't ebb like other sorts a' creatures. When the feeling to create strikes, there's no fighting it and- Lass what's wrong?"

Gloin hurried over to Eily, whose will had finally been eroded by stress, travel, fatigue, and Gloin's words.

She had been staring right at him, listening carefully, when tears began rolling down her otherwise expressionless face.

Gloin pulled a rather fine embroidered handkerchief from his pocket (yet another fine little personal treasure Gloin kept which he would never admit to having yet would offer at his own discretion) and began to dab at her face with it adroitly.

"You're alright? What's wrong? Was it something I said?"

"I jus- A dwarf is supposed to know right? When they see their One? It's supposed to hit them instantly but I…" she broke off slowly, confused, hurt, her chest constructing.

Gloin stared at her small featured face for a moment, a softness coming over his eyes. He suddenly sat on the bed and pulled her face to his shoulder, stroking her hair carefully and rocking her like she was his own.

"Shhhhh. Awwwe, be calm lass. You're still very young, and if you think you're the type to have a One, then you'll find them. Shhhh. Shhh."

"But I'm supposed to KNOW," her voice cracked at the height it reached and dropped dramatically, "If they know, then I should know."

Gloin paused for a moment, eyebrows knit together in a fatherly concern, "Has someone named you their One lassie?"

Her nose had begun to run, and she snorted willfully to pull the snot back up her nose, refusing to come undone any further or worry the kind dwarf whose auburn beard now acted as a pillow for her weary head, "I- no… but- but I should be able to feel it shouldn't I?"

Gloin shook his head, a small smile growing under his fleecy whiskers, "Dwarves live a long while lass, not all of them recognize their One when they see them. The love comes at first sight for some certainly, as it did for me, but some dwarves need some… urging. Like me wife!" He chuckled, rubbing her nose a little too roughly with his handkerchief so that the end turned a puffy, agitated red.

"But there's time enough for all of that lass. And maybe you'll know your One immediately, and maybe he'll know you. But rarely does it work both ways," he exaggerated a wink though she could not see it, "that'd be too easy," he pressed his handkerchief to her nose again, "Now blow."

Eily was starting to calm down. Maybe this ordeal with Thorin had caused her to put too much pressure on herself. She had never looked at any member of the company as anything more than traveling companions, fellow dwarves of Erebor. To do so would have been presumptuous of her as a disgraced dwarf and irresponsible of her as the daughter of the Lonely Mountain which still lodged the serpent. She had been so consumed with fitting in and being accepted that she had not considered the possibility of romance. Her mother had not taught her about affection, and she had just assumed that all dwarves fell in love as they did in the stories (at first sight) or not at all.

She blew forcefully into the embroidered fabric, which garnered an approving look from Gloin, who was musing on the son he had left at home (who in reality was only a decade or so younger than Kili, but to Gloin would always be a little dwarrowling).

"Now I want you to get some rest lass. And no more worrying over Ones and certainty. If there's one thing I know about Ones, it's that there is no certainty!"

Eily may have been a bit too tired to register that properly, because it sounded muddled. But she was happy to obey him, pulling her legs up under the blankets and burying her face into the obnoxiously fluffy elven pillows.

The lids of her eyes had dropped heavily and quickly, and she could only barely register Gloin tucking her in, fussing over her tenderly like a mother hen before latching the door quietly.

* * *

When Fili awoke he immediately wished he could go back to sleep. The prospect of a disappointing elvish breakfast accompanied by whatever frenzied scribbling and muttering was going on seemed more than he could face this morning, but Kili's sixth sense regarding his brother told him the blonde had awoken even though he had not moved.

"Brother!" he whispered from overtop the others, "Are you awake?"

Fili fought the urge to snap at his younger brother, "Nope."

"Can you help me with this? I think I've misspelled adulation but no matter how many times I write it it looks the same."

Fili pressed his eyelids shut.

_Go back to sleep go back to sleep go back to sleep._

"Fili!"

Kili's voice revealed his desperation, and Fili was powerless against it as he always had been. Kili had but to bat his large brown eyes and frown and Fili's guilt would slither up to bite him, it's teeth like ice in his chest.

* * *

"Fili," his mother said, holding his small shoulders in her rattling hands, eyes red from tears and voice hoarse from weeping, "Your father…"

She took deep breaths, never again would she shed tears in front of her children but for joy. The lady Dis of Erebor was strong, stronger even than Thorin they said, but on this day she had wept. The day she became the widowed lady of the Blue Mountains.

"You must take care of Kili. You must be good to him and protect him. Your uncle Thorin he- He will try. But it must be you Fili: you must be more than a brother. You must be strong. Promise Mama you will be strong for her."

"I promise Mama."

* * *

That promise was never spoken of again.

His mother had likely forgotten that she had sworn her child to such an oath, or believed he had forgotten it years ago. But he never had. And he had lived by it, in the best way a child can. And now that they were grown he regretted every failing. Every time he had yelled at Kili for accidentally breaking one of his toys, teased him, every time he had quarreled with him or ignored him.

But he could not be everything to everyone, no matter how he tried.

He had tried to give his family everything, and every day he had failed in a thousand little ways no matter how careful he was. But he was trying: he chose his words and actions carefully, he studied diligently, he trained his body, practiced his social graces.

He had come on this quest, for Thorin's throne, for his mother's homeland, for riches and glory that would keep them safe and happy and he had fought to bring Kili along to save him from humiliation and disappointment, watching over his every step.

He would have given them anything.

"Fili!" Kili whispered again.

"I'm coming," he whispered, sitting up and softly treading to where Kili sat, back against the wall. His face was wane and the circles under his eyes were deep and dark, "Have you slept at all?"

Kili grinned widely and shook his head, dark tresses flying this way and that, "No, I couldn't," he pulled his hair behind his ears and went back to his scribbling.

"You seemed pleased about it?" Fili looked about the floor, there were crumpled up bits of parchment surrounding his brother's feet. Fili cocked an eyebrow; perhaps his brother had cracked from sleep deprivation, surely no letter to home was worth losing some of the only truly safe sleep they would get on this journey. Not to mention that proper spelling typically meant less to Kili than treetops to a turtle.

Kili had not yet grown into his nose, but his adult ears had come in large and round, and they reddened when Fili gently took the letter Kili was working on from his hand.

* * *

_Fairest Eily, _

_From the moment I saw you, you have surrounded me. Not a moment goes by when I do not think upon you and your bearing, your kindness, and your courage. _

_It is said that _dwarves_ value only what is taken from the earth, but you're beauty radiates like the fire from a hearth, warming me and beckoning me to shed the trappings I once thought fine. You have redefined what beauty is Eily, and my adulation does not measure to your exquisiteness, but I pray my words reach your heart, as yours have always reached mine. _

_I ask that you accept this token, and me as your suitor. _

_With the deepest devotion,_

_Kili_

* * *

Fili's hand shook slightly at the reading of it. The note was overdone, too verbose, possibly even crude in its rambling, but not entirely awful.

He wanted to burn it.

"You've spelled everything correctly," he said, turning it over so he would not have to look at it, for the words made him sick in his chest. He smiled his best smile through his teeth, "She shall love it brother, I wish you luck."

Kili was beside himself, "You think so? She'll love it?"

He was so busy blushing and smiling he didn't even take the damn thing out of Fili's hand.

If he hadn't known better he would say the vile thing was burning him, he shook it in his hand impatiently, foolish smile still painted on his face.

Kili finally took the ghastly thing, holding it up rather proudly and then folding it carefully, "I'm glad. I had Gloin helping me, but he wandered off and never came back. Thank you Fili!"

The only thing keeping him from retching was Kili's joy, which rode over his heart roughshod.

There was a tight pain in his stomach.

This too you must give up.

Even though Kili looked wholly spent, he hopped off of the cushioned bench and pushed at the wrinkles in his tunic. Soon to be off to deliver his note no doubt.

But his eagerness was fast becoming apprehension as he tugged at his clothes and fumbled his hands through his hair.

Fili knew what was coming before Kili did.

"Fili, do I look alright?"

Fili scoffed good naturedly and pulled forcefully at the fabric of Kili's shoulder until it resembled itself again, "As good as you will. Don't be frightened. You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to."

"No."

Kili's face suddenly set with resolve. Not the face he wore to resemble their uncle either, this was genuine.

Fili shuffled a little on his feet.

Kili placed the folded parchment gently into his belt, not wanting his abnormally sweaty palms to damage it as he turned to leave.

Fili followed impotently, boots feeling inexplicably heavy.

* * *

Kili thought his head was going to explode. His chest was mysteriously mute, he was pretty sure he had stopped breathing before he even entered the hallway but he couldn't hear his heartbeat.

But there were other sounds, mostly his mind reeling at varying levels of hysteria.

Wait, no, one of those was his stomach; which felt achingly empty yet knotted up inside him. Did he need to vomit or break wind? What was he doing? This was the worst idea he'd ever had. Where was he walking? Was that her door? Durin's beard that was her door that was her door no what was he thinking stop walking feet stop walking what are you doing I HATE YOU FEET.

He stopped in front of the door to her chamber and took a breath, suddenly realizing that his lungs had been burning for lack of air, his face red from holding it. He was also sweaty.

Very sweaty.

Abnormally sweaty.

He was pretty sure no dwarf had ever been this sweaty outside a forge.

What was wrong with him? He'd sweet talked plenty of maids at home in the Blue Mountains even if he had never courted them.

* * *

Fili had followed his brother down the hall, plodding like a dwarf condemned. Kili seemed uncharacteristically elegant, his back straight, his gait assured. But when he turned and Fili saw his face he nearly cracked up despite his unpleasant mood. Kili was red and sweaty, and panting like he'd just run several leagues. Not to mention how he stood there blank faced like he'd forgotten how to knock on a door.

Finally the young brunette lifted a hand to the pale wooden frame.

There was a pause.

He knocked again, this time more robustly.

There was a low guttural grumble from the other side of the door. It reverberated deep and loud and Kili and Fili's lips curled a bit at the unattractive sound, but Kili knocked once more. They heard the bed creak loudly behind the door, and heavy footfalls approach.

The heavy elven wood was flung open like tinder to reveal Thorin, renowned night owl of the Blue Mountains and reviler of all things early. His glare was dark and narrow, his manor thunderous, his hair flattened to one side, beard askew, feet bare and probably chilly on the stone.

The gray light of sunrise was still hanging in the air, and it tensed as Thorin's snarl erupted up from his broad chest, "What?"

Kili and Fili suddenly shrank into small dwarrowlings, hurled back in time by Thorin's scowl.

"We… ah… we…"

His roar was muffled by the sound of him slamming his door back in their pallid faces.

They did not move until they heard the bed creak as their growling uncle returned to it.

"I'm beginning to think this is too dangerous, we should turn back," Fili half joked.

But Kili was not in a laughing mood. Encountering his uncle and feeling yet again like an embarrassed child was more than he could stand. He would go to her now, throw himself at her feet and give her the letter with his token. And once she had seen both he would take her in his arms and claim her mouth in his. He would run his fingers freely in her hair and hold her small hands in his. He would bask in her lap and stare up into her loving eyes and today would be only for them.

Yes. He was certain of it. A flirtatious grin arching up the corner of his mouth.

He spun on his heel, undeterred by his uncle's demeaning display, and marched down the hall. But his march became a stilted trot when he saw the oddest display in front of her door.

It was Gloin, slumped and snoring in a chair wedged against her doorway.

* * *

Kili approached silently, though he knew not why as he intended to wake the slumbering banker.

He poked the elder dwarf with a stiff finger, rousing him easily as Gloin nearly jumped from his seat, a curse on his lips.

"Oh it's only you lad. How goes the writing?"

Kili did not wish to share his work, it seemed too intimate. And since he had not told Gloin who the object of his affection was he hesitated to respond.

"Well enough. I've taken a break. Isn't Eily awake yet? She's usually eating breakfast by now."

Gloin tapped a finger to his bulbous nose knowingly, "Ah, the poor lass was up late last night. She's sleepin' in."

Kili did not know exactly what to make of that, but leaned in to reach the door regardless when Gloin smacked him in the forehead with the butt of his palm, sending the younger dwarf reeling back.

"Did you not hear me lad? She needs 'er rest! And I'll not 'ave you disturbing 'er!"

Gloin seemed a tad grumpier than usual, probably from sleeping in an uncomfortable chair, but moreover he seemed protective of her, guarding her door like a dog guarding its pup.

But Kili was determined.

"Move aside Gloin."

The banker stood, and though he was not as tall as Kili he opened his stance, blocking the doorway.

"No lad, you move aside."

Kili's eyes narrowed, analyzing the elder dwarf for weaknesses before turning away.

Gloin snorted his agreement with Kili's departure, settling back into his seat.

* * *

Fili leaned against a nearby pillar, chuckling under his beard as he observed the little scene.

"No good brother, it looks like you'll have to wait until she wakes up. You're better off waiting anyway; most ladies are in finer moods when they've acquired beauty rest."

Kili looked a little glum as he approached, his boots shuffling heavily, but there was a determined (even resentful) hardness in his eye, "I wanted to be the first one she saw this morning."

Fili planted an encouraging slap onto Kili's shoulder as he passed, not able to hide his satisfied grin.

He slid along the pillar to follow his dark haired sibling good naturedly.

"I don't know why you spent all night on a letter anyway brother; I saw that gold chain in her belt pouch. Even if she didn't accept you outright she wouldn't be carrying it for nothing."

The youngest heir of Durin seemed to have been struck dead.

"What gold chain?"


	15. Chapter 15

Ch.14: What Is Mine

* * *

Kili's back had stiffened in his step, "What gold chain?"

Fili was a master at hiding his more inconvenient reactions, as all future kings must be. And it was only thanks to the years of grooming under his uncle's practiced hand and his instinct to protect his brother that he was able to recover his astonishment, masking it deftly in an amused disinterest.

Kili's thick dark brows had wrinkled in pain and uncertainty, his nostrils flared slightly as his brown eyes instinctively sought his brother's for comfort and explanation. Fili could already see Kili's tender heart falling in his expressive eyes; its fear of rejection, and worst of all the fear of inadequacy and foolishness that had grown there since Kili was old enough to sense the difference others saw between his brother and himself.

It made Fili's heart ache with guilt. Guilt for taking pleasure in Kili's courting difficulties.

But more than that, and indeed more shameful, was the guilt for the alarm that crept unbidden down into his core at the possibility that Eily had already accepted a suitor, and the discomfort at who it must be.

Fili knew the chain had to have come from Thorin. There was no other explanation. Other than Bilbo Fili had been closest to Eily on this journey and would have seen it had she been carrying it from the start. Had she been carrying such a valuable object she would have been careful to locate and keep it safe after their run in with the river. But she had worried only for her axe and knife. And she had only been away from him a few short times since their arrival in Imladris.

But on the night she returned to the circle with Thorin, she had it then.

Had his uncle been… did he…

No.

Fili didn't have the time or leisure to deduce what his uncle could be thinking. He was over twice Eily's age, and she was a member of the company, under his charge, it was inappropriate. She had no family or house to look after her interest, no fortune or claim that merited this action. It all seemed so, so strange and out of character for his uncle to be thinking on courtship when Erebor lay ahead.

And Fili could not ignore how predatory it seemed for the king of the dwarves or Erebor to be consorting with a disgraced lady, no matter her magical origins.

Had it not been for the evidence he'd seen with his own eyes he never would have believed it. He couldn't comprehend it, he could barely process it.

He knew only that Kili must be protected from it.

"The one she keeps in her belt pouch, I thought you had given it to her," Fili smiled easily, forcing a wave of casual unresponsiveness over his features. He arched his eyebrows slightly; his lashes batting quizzically at his younger brother in the blind hope that if he acted like it was nothing Kili would believe it as he had believed so many times before.

Kili's frown deepened at one of the corners of his mouth, but his stare dropped from Fili's, trying to hide his eyes.

Kili always had such readable eyes.

Fili pretended to be curious for the sake of the illusion, "You mean you didn't? I had thought it a gift the way she kept it in her belt. But perhaps it is a bauble she bartered for at some point."

Kili's shoulders seemed to loosen a bit at that, and Fili knew that his word alone would settle the matter.

"I suppose it must be that, for she had it when we were swept away by the river."

The deception made Fili's toes curl in his boots, but his face endured it. Kili believed.

Relief and a flush of embarrassment at his silliness colored Kili's cheeks as his dark eyes squinted into an infectious grin.

"Of course," Kili beamed, "So are you hungry?"

Fili didn't think he could stomach anything at the moment, but Kili did not wait for him before turning to stride away towards the kitchens.

* * *

By the time Eily awoke she was disgusted by how late she had slept. Though there was really nothing for any dwarf to do in Rivendell she always felt guilty for wasting daylight in sleep. She now cursed herself for not exerting the self-discipline to force herself up, even if she would have only gotten two or so hours of sleep otherwise.

By the shadow in her room it was near noon, and Thorin was sure to be up and swaggering about with every air of superiority he could muster for the sake of insulting their elven hosts.

She may not have felt she had much (or anything) in common with the lanky immortals, but she couldn't help but note the childishness in purposefully being contrary with them. She could just picture Thorin, his thick dark mane tossing, cold eyes surveying and assessing relentlessly. Trusting nothing, weighing and measuring with acuteness and a mind bent for purpose.

Everything for a purpose.

Recruiting a hobbit: purpose.

Stealing the Arkenstone: purpose.

Claiming her title and womb under the unspoken threat of exile and eternal dishonor: purpose.

Her hands flexed, tense with ire as she strapped her belt across her hip, sticking her axe and knife into their places at her side.

It was the first time she had armed herself since arriving in Rivendell, but she no longer felt safe. She was on all sides surrounded by elves and their poisonous words, a king and his grasping ambition, and the dwarves that would die for him.

Would kill for him.

Kili may have fancied her, but she doubted he knew of Thorin's determinations for her. She could not predict whether he would defend her if such a dark moment arose that she had to fight herself free from the company.

And Fili…

She had thought Fili a confidant, for he knew what it was to live in the looming shadow of a mighty lineage. But moreover she could sense that he knew what it was to take oaths to the ones most loved and not be sure you could live up to them.

Yet his loyalty lay with Thorin, with his family, to his own oaths.

As her loyalty must lay with hers.

Elves believe dwarves to be an ungainly and raucous race, but to the ears of men and other less acute beings they are capable of moving quite silently and are probably the most sure footed when in their home mountain ranges, possessing as they do such a bond with the stone. So while the closest of elves would have heard Eily slip from her window and maneuver the surrounding terraces and rooftops, her company did not.

* * *

All through the night and into the morning Gandalf found himself in the lord Elrond's private library pouring over a series of letters, maps, and old lore, none of which told him anything he wanted to hear.

He had not slept, not even smoked, for he knew his nerves could not be eased with such a small remedy.

It must have been because of his frayed nerves that he did not hear Eily approach. That or the elven floors had aligned to her, muting her steps. For though she lacked the knowledge to translate it, the stones had sung sweetly to her, and had chirped warnings of the King Under the Mountain, but Gandalf lacked the skill to hear it.

* * *

"We must speak Gandalf," Eily said, taking a seat next to the old wizard in front of his table of tomes and scrolls. Even had she been tall enough to see onto the table she could not have read a single one, so she simply rotated the chair to face Gandalf instead.

"A…" she struggled for the word, "situation, has been brewing Gandalf. Thorin Oakenshield has proposed himself as a suitor for me." The old man did not react, but she had adjusted to his abrupt way of conversing, and continued.

"This is unacceptable. He sees me as a means to an end. He does not love me, or I him, in that fashion. It will interfere with the quest, and I am not in any way a suitable match. I am dishonored, and I have no house, wealth, or family. Courtship would interfere with my purpose, I cannot be distracted from the restoration of mine and my mother's honor Gandalf. And… If I bind myself to Thorin he would only…"

She chewed gently on the inside of her lower lip, if she explained to Gandalf why Thorin's advances were truly so frightening he may think her hysterical, but the words rolled out of her regardless.

"I think he believes he can use me to unite the seven kingdoms under him. He thinks I can grant him wealth as my mother did his forefathers. He thinks I am…"

"He thinks you are your mother's daughter," Gandalf muttered.

This struck Eily dumb.

Of course she was her mother's daughter, but what Thorin thought was something else entirely.

"No Gandalf, he thinks…" she sighed in frustration, but continued, "I am just one dwarf Gandalf, not Erebor itself or the divine jewel, my value does not approach such treasures no matter my birth! Yet for some reason Thorin believes me to be of more value than I am. I will do all I can for him but-"

Gandalf sighed, heavy and miserable. For an instant it made her want to support him as one would an aching old man.

But Gandalf the Gray was not an aging mortal, and she was used to him knowing more than he let on.

"I know you offer all that you are to the service of this quest Eily. But I am afraid what the lord Elrond told you last night is correct, you cannot swear any oath to Thorin Oakenshield, not under any circumstance until… until the last of your mother's curse is utterly swept from this earth."

Perhaps Gandalf really was a senile old man after all, and Eily could not reign in her frustration, "My mother is dead Gandalf! I go to reclaim her honor in the afterlife so she may go into the arms of Mahal the Father!"

Gandalf was not angry, he did not snap, "No Eily, not entirely. She left something behind."

Eily's heart rose and sank simultaneously. Her mother, the benefactor of her first and deepest bond of love and the subject of her most sacred vow to honor, was yet alive. This was glorious news.

Yet something in her knew this to be wrong. She had felt her mother fade from existence. A child knows when a parent passes into the next realm. They feel their absence as the most wracking and insufferable loss along with their lingering manifestation; the memory and essence of that parent which has been inexorably linked to every fiber of that child's being. And Eily knew, deeper and colder than any fear and greater and warmer than any love, that her mother, _her_ mother, was gone.

"Word has reached the lord Elrond from his woodland kin; they say the evil that has loomed under the mountain grows deeper still under reign of the dragon, that the remaining light of Erebor has been sapped, a reference I believe to the season of your birth. This evil reaches; they feel the tiny tendrils of its influence cross over the woodlands and into the mountains."

"Tendrils?" Eily's words were not above a whisper, and she realized now she had stood to take ahold of Gandalf's billowed sleeve, "Are dragons capable of such magic?"

"Perhaps I have forgotten all that an old Drake can do. It is possible he contorts the power of the stone to his dark imaginings. The light of the Arkenstone is tainted, and he may revel in its wicked light, yet I am not so sure. It is my belief he sleeps unaware of its darker machinations."

"How can a gem be tainted Gandalf?"

"It is true you were sprung to life from the light of the Arkenstone, from the life of the mountain's heart, the purest energy she could gather in herself. To offer as clean a beginning as she could for a child destined for such a bloody purpose as the reclamation of a kingdom. But it seems you were not made from every thread of magic Mahal wrought into that stone. Some remained, and now I fear without your mother's essence it has been turned to a darker purpose, though by the will of the Drake or another I cannot say."

Eily took staggered breaths. This was beyond imagining. For nearly two hundred years now her mother's body, the very halls of the great kingdom Erebor, had been ravaged by a serpentine beast. Now in her last attempt to give life to a daughter, her last gift to her people in the hopes that Eily would harken them home she had somehow made way for even more darkness to creep into the mountain, to usurp the light of the sacred Arkenstone and contort its power for ill uses..

Would her mother's torment and degradation never end? Now she was not simply the betrayer of Durin but also one who in death gave arms and strength to the darkness?

All Eily could manage was: "Why?"

Finally, Gandalf moved, shaking his head in a sickened tension, "Evil will always seek a foothold in this world. Whatever power lies unclaimed will always eventually be claimed. I cannot imagine what its intent might be. I dare not venture to say, only that the taint in it would contort the possessor of that jewel; create a sickness in them beyond a simple lust for its beauty. From what you tell me it seems to be content to call the line of Durin back to the mountain, I do not know why, but it cannot be for good. You are right to say that Thorin does not value you. Rather, he values the Arkenstone, which is groping its way to you and holding on tightly."

"Holding to me? Gandalf you're making no sense."

Gandalf paused, pulling a map close to Eily to see, placing a dirty finger onto the Lonely Mountain and tracing a line across the Greenwood and into the Misty Mountains.

"The tendrils of ill will, when the wood elves wrote to lord Elrond, they did it to warn him. It was moving to Rivendell… to you. The closer we come to The Lonely Mountain, I fear, the stronger its influence may become… until we destroy the stone."

"DESTROY THE ARKENSTONE?" Eily shrieked in outrage, "HAVE YOU GONE MAD?"

"We both know that what remains in that stone is but the atrophied shell of your mother's power, but it is enough to corrupt the minds of any who treasure it, especially the line of Durin, who have more cause to crave and love it than any."

"Then why-" Eily paused; she no longer wanted to refer to the Arkenstone or the mountain as her mother. Her mother was dead and she would do well to remember it.

"Why would Thorin seek to court me?"

"I believe this business with Thorin is a side effect, the evil in that stone has shown its hand, but not through any design of its own. You are bound to the stone Eily, it was your womb. And your mother is the destined mate of Durin, the deepest love of his heart. Since her cheating of Mahal's designs all those ages ago… the line of Durin has been one of great loneliness. I say this not to cast blame but to warn you. The sons of his line will be drawn to you as the embodiment for their desires. It is a reflection of the evil will that will seek to undo them. The jewel will plant a seed of avarice in each of them, be it for gold or glory or otherwise so that they will be drawn into darkness… It has already begun. You have felt it."

"The Arkenstone will use them, drive them mad?"

"Or simply lead them to their deaths."

At this Eily took a step back and buried her hands in her braids. Gold lust (or a lust in any sense unchecked) was a severe and potent disease in dwarf ethos, as serious as death. Dwarves were creatures created by the loving hands of Mahal, the most generous of the Valar, and so wrought from an eager and misguided affection they were equally prone to an overly keen sense of love, devotion, and obsession. If that twisted power within the Arkenstone truly was able to seep into Thorin's mind, it could drive him mad with a paranoid greed. It could whisper in his ear, contort his good intentions into wickedness.

It could mean the end of her people, for kingdoms had broken forever under much less than a mad king.

Eily was frightened. For friends and the people that she hoped to someday join in honor.

There should have existed a fear for her person, a fear of Thorin and the power he had over her as king, instead there was an even more selfish fear.

That Fili was not her friend at all, and that Kili's eager heart was betrayed by some trick of the mountain.

That she was wholly unloved in this world.

But even still, the pangs of the devotion she was so eager to exchange sprang up in her, and she turned to Gandalf now in desperation.

"Then you must keep me from them! You must act as my proxy Gandalf! If-"

Gandalf merely lifted a palm to silence her, "Eily, I cannot act as a proxy in matter of family. No dwarven council would accept it. You can only seek representation with another dwarf."

"But no dwarven member of the party is impartial in this! They've all been sworn to Thorin!"

She paused, thinking frantically, "I can destroy the stone Gandalf! I can shatter it before Thorin sets his hands upon it!"

"No!" Gandalf's voice rose urgently to quell her panic, but fell sharply, becoming gentle, "No you cannot. You must wait; wait until Thorin has summoned the armies of the other kingdoms to him. It is the only way to kill the dragon and restore the dwarves of Erebor."

"But to wait is to risk Thorin's mind, maybe even his life! My people need their king Gandalf! And what of Fili and Kili? They are endangered by this also. What future is there for the dwarves of Erebor if the line of Durin is compromised?"

Gandalf looked down on the little dwarf girl softly, pity in his eyes.

She shifted her weight from side to side, feeling like her organs had been replaced with blocks of ice, heavy and jagged and cold.

She sighed, placing a palm atop the axe that rested at her belt, thumbing the dwarvish iron for comfort.

"What would you have me do? I cannot let more harm befall my people on my mother's account."

Gandalf finally rose from his seat, leaning down to place a hand on each of her shoulders, "Be cautious, and bind yourself to no one until this is over."

Eily nodded lamely, it would seem that she was not destined for the friendship or family she had so dearly prayed for.

"I swear on the eye of the mountain Gandalf, I shall bind myself to no one, I will see the Arkenstone destroyed, and the Drake dead, lest Mahal close his arms to me in the afterlife."

Gandalf's eyes turned from hers, and she wanted to ask him why he could not look at her as she swore an oath to him.

She wanted to tell him that he was a fool, that she would never allow the stone to corrupt Thorin's mind and shrivel his heart. That he was too important. That she would find another way to kill the dragon, one which needed no dwarven army.

But when words are useless, why waste them?

* * *

Despite his mischievous nephew's interruption Thorin had rested deeply, slumbering with a comfort he rarely achieved, so he was quite at his leisure for most of the day. He sat with Bifur exchanging anecdotes and recollections for much of it.

Thorin quite enjoyed Bifur, as he was the very best storyteller Thorin had ever met.

The telling of imaginary tales was more an entertainment of men, the older races finding they had plenty of memory from which to draw true accounts of heroism, sorrow, or foolishness. But Bifur had the rare gift of weaving words so that even bald fiction was a delight. Were the dwarves of Erebor blessed with comfort or any ease of life Bifur's talent for words may have been his full profession, but as it stood no hands could go unutilized if they were to continue to keep their dwarrowlings fed and their pouches filling with coin. There was a certain tragedy in that, but it was only one small waste stacked upon the bodies of the dead and the humiliations of the living, so it did not bother Thorin as it may have otherwise.

It was as Bifur was reaching the punch line to one of the many tales he concocted about his fictitious friend Haddor when Gandalf approached. Thorin offered a very subtle nod and gestured Gandalf to join them as both were reclining on cushioned settees encircling a very small fountain. Gandalf joined them but his stance and steps were tight. Thorin noticed immediately though Gandalf laughed loudly as Bifur came to the amusing conclusion (an obvious deception as the wizard did not speak enough Khuzdul to have caught even a quarter of it).

Before Bifur could continue into another installment of the tales of Haddor Thorin very politely asked that he and Gandalf be left alone to discuss their route. Bifur smiled and with a courteous goodbye left promptly, seeming not to have sensed any tension whatsoever.

Once Bifur was a fair way from earshot Thorin turned to Gandalf, one thick dark eyebrow arched with both endurance and indictment as he reclined calmly, as though to convey with posture: "what is wrong with you now?"

* * *

Gandalf was in no mood to entertain the arrogance of kings, so he came out with it promptly, "It is unwise to mix matters of the sword with matters of the heart Thorin Oakenshield. I must advise against any action which may distract from the true purpose of the quest."

Thorin did not seem particularly interested; indeed he must have assumed that Gandalf would hear of his advances towards Eily given the wizard's talent for learning things that Thorin considered wholly unrelated to his business.

Still, Gandalf was wise enough not to attempt to dissuade or forbid Thorin from pursuing her, nor did he caution Thorin as to the Arkenstone, its sickness, or Eily's connection with it.

For Eily was right in believing that Thorin valued the Arkenstone above all things, and would risk no harm to it. To reveal why he could not court Eily would trigger a chain of justifications that would inevitably lead to the necessity of the stone's destruction, and Thorin would never allow that. It was safer simply to caution against romance.

"I think," Gandalf began, slowly, "that given the incident with the river, we should consider leaving the lady Eily behind."

At this Thorin's deep chest rumbled, and his thick muscles tightened and bulged as he spun his head to glare darkly across the twinkling fountain into the eyes of the old man, who seemed now to be playing contrite.

"That is out of the question! If you have issue with her safety, then you should know better than to propose I leave her amongst elves."

Thorin had nearly spat the words, but Gandalf did not attempt to match him in severity.

"Thorin, if indeed you intend to take a mate, honor binds you to care for her above all others; you cannot deny the peril we journey towards. This is foolhardy."

Thorin leaned back into the cushions again at that, glowering. Though Thorin himself did not fully understand his connection with the young dwarf, he knew that he could not allow harm to come to her, not out of love, but something which pulled and whispered at him. Thorin was still under the belief that he alone knew of her value and influence, though he could not have truly articulated either with any sort of poignancy, as he was in truth the most ignorant.

"Very well Gandalf… you are right. But I cannot leave her amongst the elves. I shall have to split the company, divide it so that I shall reach the mountain first, and she may follow in safety."

Gandalf could not hide his astonishment: could the dwarf king's brain be so addled?

"Thorin that is imprudence at its worst! We set out with this number for a purpose! Had we the option we'd preferred to have a few more! We cannot risk the quest by whittling down our numbers further! You are blinded!"

Thorin had nearly propelled himself from his seat; leaning forward and glaring at the wizard with his temper barely in check.

"Then what would you have me do? You said it yourself she must be protected!"

Gandalf released a dusty, aged snarl from under his thick gray beard. It had not been his intention to doom Eily to appease Thorin.

But the Drake must be checked.

"She cannot follow forward, and she cannot stay here. It seems the decision is made," Gandalf wheezed, cryptic and dripping with a rasped self-loathing.

Thorin's gaze became less ferocious, his fists unfurling slowly.

The smallest smile leaked into his eyes.

"She shall go to my house."

* * *

"And these, these here are what we in the Shire call 'bachelor's buttons,' they come in many colors but I do prefer the blue ones myself," Bilbo clucked happily, snipping the heads from a few of the flowers, handing them to Eily, near giddy.

"Oh and those are yellow begonias! My mother so loved those! Here," he handed her the small shears he had been using to trim and gather flowers, "You snip us a few more of those buttons, any color you like, while I inspect these begonias."

At that the hobbit padded away gingerly, bending down and wriggling his little nose between the many cheerful blooms and taking large whiffs.

Eily smiled softly at the cheery halfling and dutifully began to inspect and cut the stems at varying lengths as she'd been instructed. Dwarves had no natural hand at growing things, or even harvesting them, but she could gather a few flowers, even if it seemed like a pointless task. She supposed the bright colors of the blooming petals could be approximated for gemstones if one squinted hard enough.

But she couldn't imagine squinting that hard for very long.

As she cautiously clipped at the plants and Bilbo began to coo over some other herb Eily could hear the murmurs of the passing elves. She did not understand elvish, but gathered much from them in the common tongue. No small amount of comments focused on how odd she was:

_How unfortunate she is; why those ears! So big and round! She could only be a dwarf with ears such as those! And her hands! Look how robust they seem! What a shame. And look how she fusses with flowers like the hobbit does! Perhaps he shall take her to be his burly wife? _

Then the giggles and the whispers, the mumbling about how strange a dwarf she is to rumble about in a flowerbed.

_Perhaps the others do not want to be near her. Yes, after all her face is as delicate as the hobbit's! _

She should not have cared what elves said or thought (and in truth she did not). But this business with the Arkenstone had made her feel like an outsider from the company all over again.

She knew that any kindness she received from the company was due to Thorin's good graces. If he denied her, cast her out in rancor no matter the reason, the friendship of the company would vanish. They may still care for her as a sister and daughter, but none would go against Thorin, whom they loved too dearly to trespass.

And Gandalf…

Gandalf she knew would spare her pain if possible. But she also knew that he had his own motivations, which surpassed the needs of any one creature in the whole of Middle Earth. If it would serve his aim he would have abandoned her to the wrath of the dragon, let alone Thorin Oakenshield. She had known this from the beginning.

No, in truth she had only Bilbo.

So she would pick flowers, and gaze on statues, and lounge in gazebos, and admire fountains because it made her dear friend Bilbo happy. Bilbo, who was the only creature in this world she could believe honestly concerned himself with _her_ happiness.

It was in these dark ruminations that she heard the familiar low purr that had begun to make her skin crawl.

He must have come to hear her decision on her proxy.

* * *

"Lady, I did not think to find you here, frittering away your time amidst flowers."

Thorin's voice was amused and patronizing. Clearly he realized she had no real interest in flowers and was here solely for Bilbo's benefit, and yet again found an outlet to belittle the hobbit.

Eily found she had to bite her tongue, for otherwise it would lash out against Thorin for his presumptiveness, thinking himself somehow entitled to belittle her friend to her face.

She offered a low nod rather than a bow, turning her attention back to the flowers in false interest,

"How can I be of service to you?" she asked passively, "Or do you come to wander the gardens also?"

Thorin waved away the veiled sarcasm, of perhaps did not notice it in the first place,

"Of course not. I come to speak with you."

"You have my ears," Eily was being particularly discerning about which flowers she chose to cut, dragging out the task to avoid Thorin's gaze.

Thorin seemed aware of what she was doing, but was the opposite of annoyed by it. He straightened his back and pulled his shoulders taut, making himself seem larger and his chest and arms more powerful than they already were, proud of his ability to have an effect on her.

His normally piercing eyes were satisfied and amused, reveling in the discomfort of the young lady.

"Will you look at me Eily?"

Her stomach felt heavy and tight as a stone, but she could produce no reason to refuse, rising to meet his gaze with her own.

Indeed Thorin's form was robust and tall for a dwarf, arms crossed across his broad chest. The nostrils of his strong nose flared slightly when she looked at him and his delicately formed lips had curled into the subtlest of smirks.

She hated to admit it, but he looked handsome and uncharacteristically well rested.

"What would you like to discuss?"

* * *

Thorin tightened his chest reflexively under the young dwarf's gaze, taking her in carefully.

Had he been asked when he first met her over a month ago he would have explained that he found her plain (diplomatically of course). Yet though she was still quite unattractive each time he saw her she seemed more fitting.

But more important than that was her scent.

At the moment she reeked mostly of pungent flowers, the whole area did, but he could still smell the stone on her under the reek of the impractical things. He wanted to breathe deeper, wanted to bask in it. But he knew better, so he kept his face composed and concentrated on keeping his breathing even.

"I sought you out to tell you I have decided it would be best if I postponed my offer of courtship."

The girl seemed confused; she was shifting her weight to and fro,

"Postponed? So my proxy?"

"Is no longer required," he explained with a sanctimonious nod, "Attempting to court you now would be counterproductive to our quest. Understand me, it is not my desire to do so, but it is necessary."

Her eyes seemed bright and lively, he hoped it was with an eagerness for him.

"I am delaying any decisions or actions relating to courtship until after the retaking of Erebor. I think we can agree that it is for the best, given the element of danger we have encountered, and are sure to encounter again."

The young girl's face lit up.

"Yes! Yes I agree completely."

She was smiling brightly even as she pressed the bouquet of flowers to her face, concealing it in what Thorin judged to be flirtation.

"Good. I am glad you are capable of seeing reason, not every dwarf your age is so sensible."

Thorin smiled approvingly; glad she was being so accommodating and even more certain now that sending her into the care of his relatives was best.

"I have made arrangements through lord Elrond," he said softly, though soft for him was more a low rumble, "my kin will make for Rivendell as soon as they receive my message, which should be in two days."

* * *

The flowers had concealed most of Eily's relief at Thorin's decision. She wanted to believe that if he would simply give her space until they reached the mountain he would abandon this notion of courtship once she destroyed the stone, its spell over him would be equally shattered.

This would workout. Everything would be fine.

But what was he talking about? Had he decided he wanted more of his kin to accompany them on this quest? She knew the dwarves of Erebor had not recovered in strength enough to march on the mountain, else they would have already, and adding to the party would only delude its advantage of secrecy, one did not burgle with a platoon.

She licked her lips, choosing her words carefully.

"Why would you summon your kin to us Thorin?"

He did not even possess the kindness or forethought to her feelings to pause.

"They shall come to gather you, and take you back to my house in the Blue Mountains. You shall wait there, until Erebor is reclaimed, until I call for you."

Eily's free hand went instinctively but delicately to her axe.

Who did this impertinent dwarf think he was to her? He was not her kin, lover, or husband to order her about here or there. He assumed he owned her already, thinking he could send her to his home, to be guarded by his kin with no rights or honor of her own to make her way in the world. If she was trapped in the Blue Mountains how could she be certain that the stone was destroyed before the line of Durin came to harm?

And suddenly the words bubbled up, unbidden but loud and confident as Elrond had uttered them.

He was not yet any king of hers.

"Thorin that is out of the question, my place is with the company, fighting for Erebor, for my mother and _my honor_!"

Thorin was quick but not rash, uncrossing his arms and pointing at her with authority as though he were instructing a loyal pet to remain at home while he went to market.

"Your place is with me, but where I go a lady cannot follow."

He really was a brazen, selfish dwarf. To presume she desired him when she gave him no indication of it. To presume he could shuffle her off at a moment's notice to await him at his house like a goblet in a cupboard.

Her, the daughter of Erebor itself: whose blood was as ancient as his own (if not so venerated).

She could not allow Thorin's blind lust for his throne to waylay her from destroying the Arkenstone.

"I do not follow you, I would have redeemed the mountain were you going or not. Your quest was convenient, but the prospect of returning alone would not dissuade me. You do not order me Thorin, son of Thrain; I am no lady of your line to be cloistered away on your whim. It seems you have forgotten just who it is I am. Perhaps Gandalf can-"

Thorin's eyes were stormy, "Twas Gandalf suggested you break from the party! And who do you think you _are_ exactly my beardless lady? Mine is the blood of undying kings, but please, regale me on the tales of your line? What great battles have you won in the name of Erebor? What fell beasts' befoul the air no longer thanks to the song of your axe?"

Eily's face was a twisted scowl. Gandalf truly had abandoned her for the sake of his own motivations.

And though she was not surprised, she was disappointed despite herself.

Thorin's delicate lips had curled over his teeth, and his words were pain incarnate,

"Or perhaps we should look to your mother for song? Oh yes, the traitor of Durin, harlot to Smaug-"

Eily did not think, she could not, words failed her utterly. Her dwarven blood could endure no more.

A high voice pierced the air, and wide quiet footsteps and small frantic hands rushed to fill the few feet that stood between Thorin and herself.

They had quite forgotten about Bilbo, who had heard all.

"STOP!" he screamed in panic, "what are you doing? Dealing these horrible blows to one another? Is not our goal the same?"

"Yes Bilbo," she sighed tightly, fighting the shame and sorrow triggered by Thorin's words, "yes, you're right."

Bilbo's curls bounced tightly as he turned to look at Thorin, plainly demanding an apology with his eyes.

But he need not. Honor, propriety, (and most importantly for Thorin), _practicality and purpose_ demanded he attempt to undo the damage.

Thorin took a long breath, he had grown whitish and shame faced, and he cast his eyes directly to her.

They were pale and sincere, making her feel even worse about her disgust for him.

He truly could be good and noble, when he allowed it of himself.

"I was wrong to say such things. I… I apologize. But for those words _only_."

But then he ruined his own progress.

He straightened, and his voice once again boomed through the peaceful garden,

"I am King Under the Mountain, and if you think yourself a dwarf of Erebor, you shall do well to remember it. For I know what is rightfully mine in this world, and nothing will keep me from claiming it."

At this he took his leave, and neither Bilbo or Eily were sad to see him go.

* * *

She allowed herself to collapse into the grassy flowerbed, casting off the bouquet next to her, lying flat on her back, feeling utterly defeated. Thankfully for her the tall shafts and greenery of the flowers obscured her from sight, for she did not wish to be looked on just now.

For the sake of his mission Gandalf had abandoned her to Thorin, whom she had no means of defying. She could only wait now to be collected by his kin, locked away in his house until the quest went ill or Thorin wrote to claim her, the Arkenstone twisting him into a vacant, greedy, jealous thing until he no longer resembled the great King Under the Mountain. For she knew that once such a thing as greed took hold of a dwarf it did not let go. Gandalf could try to take the stone away after Thorin had used it to rally their people.

Oh yes, he could _try_.

And her fate?

Gilded cages onto the ending of her life: dishonor and a death eternal. Exile from the loving arms of the Father Mahal for her and her mother both for bringing down the noble house of Durin.

She could feel Bilbo plop to the ground next to her.

"You don't love Thorin do you?" he asked quietly.

Eily laughed outright, of course she didn't.

"No Bilbo, I do not. I do not even wish for him to court me."

Bilbo's little nose wrinkled a bit, "Then why does he seem to think you will accept him?"

Eily sighed, knowing she could not burden her only friend with the full truth, "Because he wants to think so, because I cannot refuse him without risking exile. My position with the dwarves of Erebor is tenuous Bilbo, I am disgraced, and I have no family. Thorin would need little excuse, no excuse really, and he pushes his advantage."

"And now he wishes you to go to his house… a rather compromising position for an unwed lady I should think. They'll keep you under guard I imagine, everyone will know your Thorin's… if they even let you outside."

"Yes Bilbo, I do not need reminding… or your filthy imagination to fill out the blurred edges."

Bilbo scoffed the joke away,

"Then why do it?"

"…excuse me?"

Bilbo shifted onto his knees and leaned in close, a bit of an excited flush to his cheeks, "Why go to the Blue Mountains at all?"

Eily sighed with a forced good nature, "And what else can I do Bilbo?"

She looked up to meet the hobbit's warm earthy eyes, he smiled impishly.

"Run away with me."

* * *

**Author's Note: Uuugggh, this chapter was a huge thorn in my side, so I hope it isn't absolutely awful (if it is, be gentle, because as it stands I fumbled over the thing for far too long, transitional/explanatory chapters can be such a pain).

As always big thanks to my reviewers and followers! I hope the story is/remains on par to expectations of quality (bear in mind I've no beta reader) and as always suggestions and comments are welcome!

Also, to those interested/upset by the relationships in the story (I was cautioned that I could be getting close to Mary-Sue territory in a private message, which doesn't bother me because the reader was genuinely concerned, but I want everyone to rest assured we're not going there). I can assure you Thorin is NOT a romantic possibility, (if anything, he's a hurdle) and I hope this chapter makes that clear.

So stay tuned for secret plots, courtship gifts, snuggles, and stealing from elves!**


	16. Chapter 16

Ch. 15: My Honor is My Own to Reclaim

* * *

Eily blinked back her surprise, too confused to answer as her eyes narrowed down on the hobbit. But his face did not falter; it did not even flush from her scrutiny. He simply looked down at her, smiling kindly and placidly like a cool river to a man dying of thirst.

"I mean it. Why should either of us stay? We're not really members of this company."

There was a painful sting of truth in those words for Eily; but it could not be denied that neither she nor Bilbo were obvious or organic additions to the party. She had an easier time of things than him surely, but Bilbo was right in sensing that while she may someday be a dwarf of Erebor, she was still beardless and homeless, and her trust in Thorin (and so the others) was disintegrating.

Bilbo considered her lack of response for a moment with a compassionate air, but continued.

"I am not a dwarf Eily, I don't belong on this journey… _and you do not belong in the Blue Mountains_."

There was sharpness to his tone that Eily had never heard before: it made her pause and stare into the hobbit's eyes, where she found a resoluteness and strength she had not expected.

"Bilbo…" she breathed, unsure how to respond, "I…"

"You?" Bilbo smirked, prodding her verbally.

She turned her head, staring blankly at the shafts of daisies, avoiding his steady gaze.

"I can't Bilbo. You see, that mountain, those dwarves, it's who I am. And as much as I may want to run, to hide away from all… _this_," she gestured to her beardless jaw, eyes crestfallen, "I can't. I can't just run away to the Shire with you. It would be a life and death without honor, and not just for me."

He could not possibly understand just how many would suffer should she fail to destroy the Arkenstone, but he perceived gravity in her words.

Bilbo's voice was soft and melancholy above her, "You can't live and die just for them Eily."

He could not perceive of a life such as hers, conceived in magic for a single purpose: choices were not among the blessings counted by her kind.

She was made by the mountain as a gift to the dwarves of Erebor, for the line of Durin: to protect and serve them faithfully and deliver them back to the mountain.

Only now that she had a life and a will and a name of her own did that purpose ring hollow. Only after tasting the water, breathing the air, and feeling the warmth of another's hands entwined in her hair did living an unchosen life seem wasteful.

"I was made for this quest, no matter the end."

Bilbo's lips tightened into a resolute frown, his gentle earthen eyes combing the ground as though the answer lay in the dust and flowers.

"Then it seems," he was near inaudible, "that so was I."

She turned again to face him, his curls falling across his forehead as he leaned down over her.

"No Bilbo, I cannot ask that of you, I cannot."

But that strange streak of mettle, (which Bilbo would later explain to her as his 'Tookishness') ran swift up his back, evening his voice and putting strength into his eyes.

"You're my friend Eily. And I will not abandon you to torment and captivity, not of Thorin's making or any other."

And his voice conveyed that he meant it. That though he wouldn't choose it, indeed would rather go anywhere else, he would aide her in her return to the mountain, and ask nothing for himself but her friendship.

An unselfish promise, made to her, Eily Vividstone, regardless of her beardless face or accursed mother.

A promise and bond all her own.

"Oh Bilbo!" she sighed shakily, not near tears but a bit rattled with appreciation, "Thank you."

At that she lurched up, embracing the hobbit tightly and pulling him down over her. He was warm and his soft curls tickled her face and neck as she crumpled the back of his velvet jacket in her fists, holding fast to him like he was the last anchor of her world.

And though her eyes were closed, she could feel the hobbit smiling as his embrace tightened to match hers.

It seemed only fitting that the first being who held her hand and professed friendship to her should also be her first embrace.

It was a short moment before they realized they were entangled in a compromising position in the dirt, and they were thankful they were hidden by the tall flowers, though they would have only laughed at their curious onlookers.

For theirs was a true friendship devoid of any physical awkwardness between male and female.

The two smiled widely at one another, faces flushed from giddiness and the midday sun.

* * *

"So," Eily began without ceremony, reclining again in the flowers for she found (to her surprise) she rather enjoyed it, "what is our plan?"

Bilbo grunted his amusement, for he had flopped down next to her, the two lying flat on their backs in the high flowers, fingers laced across their stomachs and staring into the clouds.

"It seems most prudent that I should wait for the company to leave, so that Thorin believes I shall be in the hands of his kin."

"Certainly," Bilbo granted.

There was a long pause.

"I shouldn't tell Gandalf of this, should I?" Bilbo sighed; though both knew it was not a question. Thorin had made no secret of Gandalf's choice to allow Thorin to take her for his own, and the hobbit had been deeply aggrieved to hear of it. Both now knew they would be acting against the wizard's wishes, and while it caused no small amount of disquiet in Bilbo's mind he simply could not surrender Eily to Thorin. Dragons and mountains be damned.

"No, we cannot speak of this to anyone," Eily insisted.

She sighed tightly, the reality of their scheming beginning to set in. She had never deceived anyone before, especially not Gandalf, whom she had traveled with since the evening of her birth. This brought her to a terrible realization.

"I don't know how to get back to the mountain."

Bilbo snorted amusedly.

There was a tight pause.

"You're joking?"

Eily remained silent but chewed the inside of her cheek gently.

"Oh you've just got to be… how can a dwarf not know their way back to their own mountain? Don't you have some manner of magical… something?"

Bilbo's hands were stiffly gesturing through the air until he let escape a frustrated sigh, covering his face in exasperation.

Eily sputtered in her own defense, but was in reality quite embarrassed and even ashamed. She should not have relied so heavily on Gandalf, or on her presumptions that the dwarves of Erebor would eagerly return to the mountain.

"I left the mountain not two days after being born and have been on the road since! Gandalf always knew the way, and I had always been under the impression I would return with a company at my back! Gandalf had promised me his aide… Could you find the Shire again if Elrond did anything short of put you on the East road itself? And let me assure you there are no such roads East of the Misty Mountains! It's treacherous and wild lands from here to Erebor!"

"Then it would seem we need Gandalf's help, yet we cannot tell him."

The two shifted against the dust and grass uncomfortably, stuck once again.

It was a long while before Bilbo spoke (on a topic not related to "what does that cloud resemble").

"I must remain with the company until we've crossed the Misty Mountains," Bilbo said suddenly, "It is the only way for us to make it to the mountain. I've seen a few of Elrond's maps, once we're across, it should be a simple task of heading East to the Lonely Mountain, it will be easy to spot. I will leave with the company, and you shall follow our trail until such time as I can sneak away to meet you."

"Yes but… how can I follow you without being discovered? Dwarves are not known for their tracking Bilbo, me least of all."

Bilbo's brow furrowed, that was a stumper.

"Eily… what do you know about moon runes?"

Eily cocked an eyebrow, her mother had taught her just about everything there was to know about the methods dwarves utilized the moonlight with, moon letters were among the more mundane to someone with her arcane knowledge.

Bilbo judged this look to be sufficient, "Before you and Fili were returned to us, Thorin, Balin, and Gandalf called me into a meeting with Lord Elrond. He used a stone to reflect moonlight into Thorin's map."

Eily shot upright, her eyes widened on Bilbo, "Elrond possess one of the kheledâl—tharakh?"

Bilbo simply looked up at her flatly, "I have no idea what that means Eily."

She snorted, rolling her eyes as if speaKing to an imbecile, "A reflecting rock. It's an incredibly rare stone, prized among dwarves and elves for its ability to harness, reflect, and enhance moonlight and starlight. It can even be used to store the light for a short time."

"Yes, that sounds right. Elrond placed the map on it and when the moon came from behind a cloud the light seemed to be magnified in the stone. He used it to read the moon runes."

A grin began to crawl across Eily's face, delight and mischief in her eyes, "You're recalling the silver pen I showed you earlier! The one I took from the troll horde. You mean to leave me moon runes!"

Bilbo smiled triumphantly, crossing his arms behind his head leisurely in confirmation.

"Bilbo that's brilliant! You'll go ahead with the company, and I'll follow a few days behind. You can leave moon runes for me to follow along the way and once we've passed the mountains you can establish a place to meet me! Then we'll sneak away and beat Thorin to the mountain!"

She rummaged through her larger belt pouch and pulled out the silver pen, whose tip was comprised of mithril and enchanted by the dwarves of the first age. Its value probably exceeded that of Bilbo's entire estate in Hobbiton, yet she handed it to him enthusiastically and without hesitation. Fili was the only other who knew she had it and he had not come close to guessing it's true significance when he first saw it, but Eily had recognized it for what it was instantly.

"Now we just need for you to steal some of Elrond's kheledâl—tharakh!"

It seemed Bilbo had not gotten that far.

"W-what?"

* * *

The dwarves of Erebor gathered together for lunch late that day, delayed by Thorin who had insisted he wanted to join them.

The dwarves had gotten into the habit of simply gathering outside the kitchen shortly before each meal, taking what they wished in large servings and setting their own table near their quarters. They sat on the ground as few dwarf sized chairs were available, but cushions had been provided and several short decorative tables had been pushed together to produce a passable eating surface.

It was as Ori and Dori were rolling in a barrel of wine that Balin had arrived, announcing that Thorin would join them today rather than dining with the elf Lord or the wizard.

This had been a glad tiding to all but Fili, who had been quiet and tense all day, and now sat stiffly between his brother and Bombur, who every so often nudged at Fili when a joke was made or the conversation got particularly stimulating to urge him to join in.

Thorin arrived, unapologetic about his tardiness and sauntering slowly to the barrel to get his own wine from the tap. He took his place at the head of the table briskly, holding his goblet high to signal for silence. It was an oddly formal gesture so the company hushed carefully.

"Thank you very much for waiting. I have spoken with Gandalf and he agrees we shall set out again in four days. Everyone please be sure to thank the Lord Elrond for his gracious hospitality."

The dwarves all nodded and seemed unabashedly cheerful to hear that their journey would recommence before the end of June. Some began to chatter again but Fili's eyes remained trained on Thorin who had not sat down but merely took a hearty swallow of his wine.

"I should add before we dine, that the Lady Eily will not be joining us any further on this quest,"

At this the table again fell silent.

"After the incident with the river, Gandalf and I have found her presence here inappropriate. It is simply too dangerous for the only daughter of a First Mother to accompany us. I have decided her value lies elsewhere. There is no dishonor in this, as I have insisted upon it. I have already written to our kin in the Blue Mountains. They shall ride to gather her with all speed, and she shall find a place there among our people until such time as the mountain is retaken."

Fili could feel the blood drain from his face.

He looked around him tightly, certain his kin would see the deception in this: the others seemed to be agreeing with Thorin implicitly.

"It's for the best I think," Bofur nodded, "such a young thing as her shouldn't be goin off on dangerous missions such as this."

"Aye, and she's not of the blood so it's no shame to her," Dwalin added, "should she wish it there'll be other battles in later years."

The table seemed to be nothing but acceptance of this decision.

Fili was flabbergasted.

Did they really not see what his Uncle was doing?

Fili could not help but admit to himself that the idea of Eily leaving the quest was comforting. He would no longer have to watch out for her, he could sleep soundly knowing she was in the care of his kin in the Blue Mountains, and moreover he would not have to endure the thoughts that plagued him each time his Uncle looked at her, or the shooting pains in his gullet each time Kili spoke of her.

But though it would bring him comfort, would even ease his suffering, he could not allow it.

He could not trade her freedom for his own relief.

To go to the Blue Mountains under Thorin's order would be tantamount to imprisonment. With no family or position of her own she'd be no more than Thorin's future conquest, no doubt being held in their house (probably against her will) until she would be carried off to Erebor to become his hostage bride (that, or exiled for rebuking Thorin's affections).

But what if that was not the truth?

What if she wanted to go to the Blue Mountains, what if she wanted to be Thorin's bride?

No: that was absurd. He could not believe that the dwarf he saw standing in the freezing mud and rain to encourage an aging pony forward would ever willingly have her independence stripped from her at Thorin's pleasure. The Eily who had slept under the stars with him, had bathed in the freezing river, shared his pipe weed, and cooked him that infernal strawberry covered rabbit would never abandon the reclamation of her family honor to another.

He smiled quietly under his beard as he thought back on that morning she had made a poultice for his inflamed face. How her eyes had glittered with amusement and culpability when they realized it was the strawberries she had used to garnish the rabbit. How her nose had crinkled with disgust when he had tossed her the turtle he snatched up and killed, and how her eyes would fall when he was being grumpy or cross with her, but would bounce back to scowl at him when she thought he couldn't see.

His Eily would never compromise her every value, her every oath and moral, to become the plaything of any dwarf, even so great a dwarf as Thorin.

His Eily…

_His_…

Fili felt a wave of cold nausea roll over him. His shame only deepened as Kili leaned forward with a wide grin, nudging Fili and laughing loudly.

It would seem the conversation had taken an amusing turn while he had been occupied by his own dark ruminations.

Kili's smile faltered when he turned to him, elbowing him with playful concern, "Brother? Did you not hear him? He said it was a fish, get it?"

Kili's grin resurfaced as he emphasized the punch line, "A fish?"

Fili had no idea what Kili was talking about; clearly he'd missed a lot.

He had no patience for this silliness.

He took hold of a fistful of Kili's blue tunic, the laces entwining in his strong fingers. The gesture was fiercer than he intended, and Kili's expression became blank as he stared with large innocent eyes into Fili's stern face.

"You cannot be agreeing with this."

Kili's dark brows knit together, the nostrils of his small nose flaring in confusion, "It's a joke brother, the man didn't _actually_ marry a fish."

Fili growled low, his eyes rolling, "Not that. I'm talking about Eily (no, too familiar) er- I mean the Lady Eily. You can't agree that she should be shuffled off to our house. Retaking Erebor is her birthright."

Kili eyes were round and wide. He seemed torn just as Fili had been, his gaze shaky with sympathy.

But he was taking too long to answer; Fili shook him gently, giving him a hard glance to make him reply.

"I know Fili I know!" Kili whispered harshly, not fond of his brother handling him so but not pulling against him, "I just…"

He fell silent again, uncomfortable with revealing anything at the crowded table.

Fili let go of his tunic, not wanting to raise any attention their way.

"Kili," he mumbled austerely.

* * *

Kili swallowed against the dry feeling that had suddenly come over his tongue. What could he say to his brother that wouldn't make him sound like an overly delicate fool?

He wanted Eily to stay with the company, he did, more than anything he'd ever wanted. He wanted to confess his affection for her this moment, and then spend the journey lavishing his fondness on her.

The promise of it made his mind reel at the possibilities.

She would ride with him on the road from now on, her soft hands lacing over his firm belly, resting her golden head on his shoulder. They'd laugh and converse all day and share secrets only each other could hear. And when they made camp he'd finally be able to lay out his bedroll next to hers without arousing any suspicion, and while he didn't dare presume to share his blankets with her (for she was a fine Lady of noble house), he knew they would fall asleep gazing at each other, holding hands to cross the gap between them.

Every morning they would share breakfast, for she disliked sausages and he hated the texture of eggs over easy (which Thorin preferred and so was the usual morning fare). Then afterwards he would dote on her hair. She'd finally be able to join everyone in their morning grooming, for he would adorn her with the most ornate and beautiful plaits. He'd use the many beads his brother and mother had given him (to encourage him to adorn himself more properly) to embellish her shining mane and she would lean into his chest and mumble his name pleasantly.

_But the river._

Kili felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He could never endure something like that ever again.

"I know what this journey means to her Fili… and I believe in her strength but…"

He knew his brother was preparing for a dispute, but he would have none of it.

"But I can't let anything happen to her. I'm not strong enough Fili."

His brother's eyes blazed under his blonde brows, the long braids of his mustache quivered, revealing the subtlest shakes of rage that Fili was fighting to control.

"I know what you would say Fili," he whispered harshly, "but she was born destined for the line of Durin, and I shall reclaim the mountain in her name. She would prefer to reclaim it for herself, but she shall have it just the same. I will see to it, onto my death and the end of the world I swear it to you Fili I will reclaim what was lost for her and for our family. I will hold the Arkenstone in my hands and by the end neither you nor Thorin shall feel ashamed of me, and the Lady of the Vividstone will hold her head high among our people, her face beautiful and full bearded."

* * *

Fili had never seen his brother so resolute, but he was a fool to think that Thorin would go to such trouble over her for simply because she had an old bloodline.

And if Kili truly believed that Eily would accept his sanctimonious preaching about what was and was not for her benefit…

In all Kili's life Fili had never made an open display of his anger towards him, such spectacles were simply not his way. Fili was never ostentatious with his emotions, always careful to conceal them until the appropriate moment, if it ever came.

Often it never did, and Fili would sulk until Kili pried the truth from him.

Fili was so tired of hiding.

He stood swiftly, his thighs rattling the table and knocking over Bombur's wine.

And though he spoke low, much of the company had gone quiet at his sudden movement, so his words susurrated down the table with steely cruelty,

"It seems rather obvious to me brother, that you do not love the Lady so much as you like believing you do. For you speak grandly of what you shall do, and what you believe and feel, but little of her. So spare me the trivial ramblings of dwarflings," he turned away from Kili, who looked as though Fili had struck him a deep and deadly blow.

He turned stiffly to his Uncle, who stood again at the end of the table, his face thunderous.

"Excuse me Uncle," he bowed low but did not wait for any permission.

* * *

Kili took a shaky breath as Thorin barked after Fili.

He had turned his gaze low to hide the shame on his cheeks and the hot angry tears in his eyes.

* * *

Bilbo's pointed ears twitched involuntarily, whether from nerves or some soft sound he could not be sure, so he stiffened on the spot, crouching low under the rim of the babbling fountain. His lips were pursed in a perpetual scowl, how was it that the elves got any sleep when most of Rivendell had this odd glow about it?

It was making hiding in the twilight shadows rather difficult, since he had always been under the impression that one needed shadows if one was to hide in them.

After a few moments of nothing but the tumbling of water over stone he recommenced, hunched over and near crawling from spot to spot. The company was not supposed to approach the Lord's private rooms unless escorted, but there seemed to be very few elves nearby to notice him. Once he had scaled the landing he was more at ease, straightening up to have a look about.

He did not yet possess the calm of a thief, and the constant threat of detection made his movements hurried and clumsy. It did not occur to him that he could simply lie if discovered, claiming he had gotten lost as the dwarves so often did.

Bilbo padded, quickly and so not as quietly as normal, over to one of the many tables that dotted the room. All were simply layered with papers and books, and he rifled through them impatiently, certain that every sound was the draw of an elvish bow taking aim at his round head.

The things he did for friendship.

He located several maps that would suit their task, but most were too large or lacked the detail he needed. Finally he came across a functional dwarf/hobbit sized map that detailed the lands East of the Misty Mountains. He rolled it up gingerly and stuffed it into his jacket without even so much as an upward glance.

He tapped the outside of his jacket with the flat of his palm, making certain it was secure in the lining under his breast pocket. Contented the map would hold there, he turned his attention now to the path through the wood, which he knew led to the ledge behind the waterfall where the reflecting stone awaited.

Though normally Bilbo would be even more undetectable in the woods and underbrush, these trees and statues which lined the path seemed strangely… well, _aware_.

There was an uncomfortable buzzing in his small ears which made them throb, and he felt a headache rising up from compression in his sinuses as though there was pressure in the air. He wanted very much to leave the path but knew of no other way. He could only turn to eye the statues over his shoulders skittishly.

* * *

Eily sat (quite literally) on her hands waiting for Bilbo to return. She had chosen to wait in a frequently used courtyard central to the Lord Elrond's palace. She figured that as long as she stayed in the areas the elves frequented the other dwarves would not come looking. She let out a long sigh, the waiting was torture and every moment she sat there she imagined Bilbo being caught with a shard of Elrond's sacred stone in his tiny fist. She ran her fingers through her unbraided tresses, coming across a small knot which she tore out savagely, shaking her hand disgustedly to encourage the long tangled hairs to fall to the ground. She huffed, eyes scanning for a method to detract attention from waiting.

She should have brought some wood to whittle.

"Eily!"

She stood and turned curiously to see Kili bounding up the path, pushing his way past large busy elves who cocked thin groomed eyebrows down at his elation.

He stopped just shy of knocking her over, still not having grown into his feet.

"I wondered where you had gone off to!" he laughed childishly, wide smile pushing his round cheeks up into the unselfconscious grin she found so fetching.

"Hello Kili," she smiled back though she didn't mean to.

Curse his infectious ways.

"Would you walk with me?" he asked hopefully, gesturing towards a less crowded path towards the falls.

"Well…" she considered lying to him but then did not see the point, "I'm waiting for Bilbo."

"Ach!" Kili waved away her excuse, taking her hand and gesturing again towards the path, "It isn't as though he won't find you later, come with me, you look like you could use the air."

He tugged at her playfully and she conceded some of her reservations.

* * *

The two walked in relative silence until the crowds of elves had dispersed. Kili hummed a jaunty tune but she could not recognize it, and she still felt too awkward around Kili after his declaration in the grass a few nights prior to ask about it.

Finally, when he was confident they were alone he turned to her, "I know that you feel out of sorts around me, and I understand why."

His tone wasn't accusing or unpleasant in any way, he had an oddly mature understanding about him at the moment.

"And I can't say that I'd really blame you if you didn't want to but-" he began to rummage in his surcoat,

"Uhm… well I wanted to give you these."

At this Kili pressed a small package wrapped in thick parchment and twine and a crumpled up folded note into her chest.

He licked his lips nervously as she unfolded the note, but began to visibly glow when she smiled softly at his inexpert scrawling.

He shifted his weight to and fro, bouncing a little, eager for her to finish.

When she finally began to refold the note he did not even allow her to get in a syllable.

"Now open the gift! Open it!"

She could not restrain a giggle at the young dwarf's excitement, "Okay okay I am!"

But her gentle fingers were not tearing into it quickly enough for his zeal, she was struggling against the tightly knotted twine, "What? No! C'mon open it like you're excited!"

She laughed as he took it from her and ripped the twine from it like it was nothing at all.

"I'm sorry!" she laughed carelessly, "I've never gotten a present before I didn't know I was supposed to unwrap it so fiercely!"

This stayed Kili's hand, and he considered the thick parchment for a short instant.

He was giving her her first real gift?

He felt a warm light in his chest, and he handed it back to her gently, "Well okay, now you know so tear into it!"

She beamed into his eyes for the first time as she tore into the wrapping, and he thought he would die if she didn't approve of what he had made for her.

"Kili," she breathed, "Kili did you make these?"

Kili nodded eagerly, "Yep!" and he dove a hand in to retrieve one.

The present was, as she well knew, a traditional courtship gifting of beads. An old practice that had fallen somewhat out of fashion in higher circles in favor of more elaborate or expensive trinkets, but being on the road as they were they were quite satisfactory. It seemed Kili had some skill in carving; each wooden bead was covered in a basic series of overlapping convex polygons with interlaced segments of a single unending rope.

"I noticed you had none for your braids, and I thought that-"

He was silenced by her knowing smile, "I love them. I have never received such a thoughtful gift."

Kili felt five feet tall, pride overflowing inside him as he took hold of some of her hair and affixed the bead in his hand to the end of it, covering the tip and letting the new braid fall haphazardly into her eyes.

She exhaled a bit in exasperation and pulled the plait back to meet the others as he continued setting the beads into her locks.

"The wood is very beautiful," she remarked, "where did you come upon it?"

Kili cleared his throat roguishly, eyes and hands still busied in her hair, "Yes well… you may not want to wear these until you're out of Rivendell… they're carved from a rather fine chair I happened to come across."

Eily burst out into unconstrained laughter for the first time in days when she imagined Kili sneaking into a hall and covertly carrying off an entire chair. She covered her mouth and nose with embarrassment when a snort erupted from her in an attempt to gather air, but she could only gasp and continue to laugh and heave as she imagined the looks Kili must have garnered from passersby when he was curled on the ground over what was obviously a chair leg.

Kili laughed warmly at her snort, hands whisking across her now braided and beaded head. All her hair had been pulled to one side, which was now intricately woven and bedecked in the silvery beads.

The elvish wood caught the dim light of twilight in Rivendell, casting back a silvery shine to the eye.

"You look like reflections of starlight in a golden river, like the sun and moon have conceived a daughter and brought her to earth for my eyes alone," he remarked unthinkingly. He seemed not to have even noticed he said it, his hands still playing mindlessly in the tresses that hung free.

Her eyes climbed his body regretfully, the note had been clumsy but heartfelt, and the beads were a beautiful gesture.

She wanted to believe his heart was truly as tender and sincere as it seemed.

She thought on her oath to Gandalf, and then to how he had betrayed her to Thorin.

She thought of Bilbo, and their mission to destroy the stone.

Would accepting Kili really interfere with any of that? Would simply trying really cause so much harm to her heart as she feared?

She found she could not avoid being touched by his innocent devotions.

"Kili," she breathed.

"Mm?" he finally brought his gaze up from the hair that caressed her neck and into her lush eyes.

He could not bring himself to move as she leaned up to brush his stubbled cheek with her soft petal lips.

His heart was a kite on the soft wind of her favor, and in that moment he flew.

He was suddenly struck with an uncharacteristic timidity, his chest heaved with shallow breaths and his cheeks flushed as he gazed on her.

He was elated to find the whisper of a blush on her cheek.

"Thank you Kili, for everything, it's all so beautiful."

She loved it, just as Fili said she would.

_Fili_

The still spiteful thought of his brother made him dig deep within himself to find his courage again, and he boldly took her into an embrace, his rough cheek pressed into the crook of her neck, her hair a fragrant pillow of flowers and nectar and wind and youth.

He smiled into it and breathed deep, "I am so glad it pleases you," he exhaled, squeezing tighter and feeling her timid arms wrap around his waist to hold him at his back, a single hand moving up to caress the back of his head tenderly.

As he nuzzled into her hair his nose came into contact with the flesh of her neck, and for a moment he quivered against the urge he felt to kiss and nibble there. But he was still all too keenly aware of the fact that she had not actually accepted him as her suitor yet. So he withheld, though it curled his toes and made the muscles of his back go rigid to resist. He muttered sweet nothings to her in Khuzdul as she deftly stroked his hair.

He sighed, trying to be content with only this innocent embrace, "Just be patient with me Eily. Soon you'll be draped in silks and stones instead of plain wooden beads and trinkets. If you permit me to say so, perhaps you'll even someday be clad in the sigil of Durin once I have finished assisting my Uncle in the retaking of Erebor."

Eily stiffened in his arms.

"Once you've assisted _Thorin_…" she rasped.

"In your name of course," he purred, feeling emboldened to let his nose nuzzle against the line of her jaw.

* * *

Eily could feel every drop of her blood curdling at Kili's words, and she shoved him from her like poison on a plate.

"In my name you say?" she hissed, her eyes steely.

So even he was a pawn of Thorin's plot to ensnare her?

Kili stood with arms agape, completely at a loss, "Yes… of course. Is not the honor of retaking the mountain what you wish for?"

She could feel the muscles of her face twitching in an unsightly but uncontrollable manner, "Is it not- You don't understand?" she stomped her foot in frustration, her small fists clenching at her sides.

"I do not want you to take the mountain for me, what good does that do me? I've no interest in being your little princess Kili, someone for you to protect and claim you do mighty deeds in the name of for in the end it is _your glory_, _not mine!" _

Kili seemed a bit incensed by this, "I'll not allow harm to come to my chosen! What honor is there for me in allowing you to endanger yourself needlessly?"

"NEEDLESS?" Eily tried to compose herself, "You think my purpose _needless_?"

"Your purpose is with the house of Durin just as Thorin-"

Eily recoiled from the young dwarf at the sound of his Uncle's name, "Thorin? Thorin! You agree with him then that I belong in one of Durin's cages until one of you should have use of me, for are _your whims_ not _my purpose_?" she laughed bitterly as she began to tear the beads from her hair, keeping them locked away in her fists.

Kili could see his every hope unraveling before him, but he was angry.

"I do not presume to-"

"YOU PRESUME EVERYTHING BECAUSE YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!" she screamed, eyes fixing shut.

She would not cry in front of any Durin's son.

"And you do not mean to find out," she whimpered.

Kili had never been so undone and exasperated before, and his usual faltering command of words was not serving him.

Kili had never been good at thinking before he spoke, that was Fili's talent.

Why did she have to ruin their happiness? Her place was in his heart and so he must keep her safe. He had worked so hard to get to this moment.

He was just so angry.

"I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT TRY TO UNRAVEL JUST WHO AND WHAT YOU ARE SINCE THIS JOURNEY BEGAN BUT YOU WILL NOT GIVE ME A PASSING GLANCE! YOU'RE MUCH HAPPIER WITH YOUR WIZARD AND YOUR HOBBIT! AND IT IS NO WONDER WITH A FACE LIKE THAT!"

Kili wished he had fallen on his own sword the moment he let those hateful words escape his lips.

He could only watch in horror as all the fury and righteous anger in the warring dwarf woman bled out, leaving only a shivering little dwarrowling standing with tears erupting from her shamefully beardless face.

Words tumbled from his mouth like the tears from her eyes,

"No Eily, no I did not mean that I was angry it should not-"

"My honor is my own to reclaim Kili," she said sorrowfully, "I wish you could see."

At that she turned from him.

His brother had been right, he had not understood.

And not since the river had taken her from him had Kili wept so profoundly, for now he could not imagine how he should ever recover.

* * *

Fili had fumed for hours in the dying light, waiting impatiently for his Uncle in his private chambers. He smoked but it did not ease him and he could not eat or drink but for the occasional sip of water, for he was making himself hoarse practicing the words he planned to exchange.

Fili had begun to light the lamps as his Uncle entered.

His Uncle was not surprised to find Fili waiting for him when he entered his chambers; he merely nodded toward him and closed the door quietly behind him.

Thorin threw down his furred surcoat on the large bed and joined Fili on the balcony, "I see you have calmed since lunch," he remarked.

Fili did not like the way Thorin always encouraged him to dance around the point, it was very unlike Fili to do so.

Thorin had never liked Fili's directness; King's should never show their hand too early.

"What are you thinking Uncle? The Lady Eily is too young and vulnerable to be courted by the King Under the Mountain. I don't understand what gain you see in it."

* * *

Thorin spent the next hour explaining (in what Fili could only call a circular and not all together logical manner) his plans for Eily. It made Fili sick to think of Eily in his Uncle's marriage bed, and Fili tried to dissuade his Uncle fruitlessly.

"Thorin I cannot see the wisdom in this. We are not so petty as the race of men as to treat our women like thoughtless objects! Eily is a dwarf Lady, a Lady of Erebor! She deserves more respect than this! She is our subject! We should be protecting her not thinking only on how best to exploit her."

"Fili, when you are King you will understand the need for such things."

"I will never understand the need for betraying my-"

Fili faltered, and the pause made him frightened.

"But think of Kili!" Fili implored, reaching the end of his rope.

Thorin turned to Fili patiently, having maintained a calm demeanor throughout the discussion, "You were right to deceive him."

Fili balked for a brief moment, "What?"

"I spoke with him before coming here; he confessed to me that he intends to present the Lady with his courtship gift today. He would hardly have told me that if he knew of my proposal to court her. Don't worry Fili, you were right to deceive him, your brother does not always think rationally, and often he speaks and acts even before thinking."

Fili felt a pinprick in his heart at the thought of his brother presenting his courtship offering, but all that would be of no consequence if he could not dissuade his Uncle.

"How can you allow Kili to offer himself to her if you've already done so? Don't you care?"

Thorin shrugged helplessly as though Fili were talking complete nonsense, "His youthful imaginings are hardly any threat. And besides," Thorin sighed, "Once the mountain is retaken I may be persuaded to relinquish my claim to her. Her womb would make a Kingly gift for any dwarf."

Fili did not recognize the dwarf standing before him; could this truly be his Uncle? The same Thorin that had sung to him and Kili in their beds when they were small?

"Fili, I do not want this to be common knowledge. Better that no one know her value to me until the quest is ended, I have told our kin only that she is of great importance to me. As for Kili, let him have his infatuation, it will end when we set off again."

Thorin turned back to Fili gravely, "These secrets are to keep her safe, do you understand?"

Fili stared blankly at Thorin, confused and torn.

"Fili…" Thorin rumbled, "are you not an heir prepared to do his King's will?"

Fili swallowed the dry lump in his throat, what madness was at work here?

"Yes Uncle."

Thorin rested a heavy palm on Fili's shoulder, "Rest easy this night Fili. I assure you that once we leave that girl far behind, safe in the knowledge that she is in the hands of our trusted kin, the journey will be as it should have been all along. Everything will have returned to the proper order."

* * *

Fili found himself acting completely out of character, hurdling his way over fence and tall grass and across smooth stone paths, knocking into poorly lit statues and muttering and cursing his way across all of Rivendell in search of Eily.

He had to find her; had to warn her. He had to caution her away from the Blue Mountains. She must not relent to Thorin no matter what.

He had to help her concoct some plan of escape.

That was when he heard it.

It was no elf sound to be sure.

Without even thinking he ducked low into some decorative topiary: feeling stupid as he did so for what did he have to hide from?

He fixed his gaze into the courtyard some ways off, for it was dark and he had only elven lanterns to aide his sight (for the hazy dim that the elven magic of Rivendell gave off in the night caused his dwarf eyes to blur slightly).

It was Bilbo, and from the look of his pacing he seemed to be in another of his moods.

"Where could she have run off to? We agreed to meet right here!" he pouted aloud, pointing and pounding his foot on the stones in front of a bench.

Fili strained to hear the hobbit's mumbles, for he could only be referring to Eily.

Fili watched for a few moments more as the hobbit fingered at something in his jacket pocket, and then pulled something shiny from beneath his vest.

It was Eily's silver pen: Fili recognized it instantly.

Bilbo strained his neck for a moment to examine the moon, which had been full two nights before. He seemed to judge it sufficient (yes Bilbo, the moon hasn't gone anywhere), and then disappeared below Fili's eye line for a moment. When he straightened again, he stowed the pen back under his vest and padded off soundlessly.

Fili scrambled from the bush to examine the scene.

Nothing seemed to be extraordinary. It was just an elvish bench, identical to nearly every other bench in nearly every other nigh indistinguishable courtyard in this forsaken place.

Then the moon peaked out from behind a cloud, and he saw it: a dim ethereal light peeking out from under the bench.

Fili tried to cock his neck low but the hobbit was smaller than him, he had to lay flat on his back and wriggle under the seat to see it.

_Moon letters. _

Eily's silver pen was no ordinary trinket.

The hobbit had scrawled only three words:

"_Nest reflecting stone"_

* * *

**Author's Note: My goodness! I originally intended to save this until Friday but owiak's feels emergency pushed me to get it out faster!

As usual I hope everyone enjoyed and deepest gratitude for my reviews and followers (Please note that I don't usually respond to reviews in private messages like some authors do but don't think that means you aren't appreciated)!

I'm sure you all realized the reflecting stone isn't an actual thing, the name for it is just a hacked together bit of Khuzdul (with _kheledâl_ meaning reflector and _tharakh_ meaning rock, but I figured Bilbo would replace "rock" with "stone" in the common tongue because it just sounds nicer).**


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